


There was a simpler solution

by nohbodyknows



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Michael Has a Squip, Angst, Blanket Forts, Coming Out, Emotional Abuse, F/F, M/M, Michael does something stupid, Nightmares, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, a little fluff, author tries to be hip and relatable but fails miserably, christine is the sweetest person ever, dad jokes, dead memes, don't you just love mutual pining fests, im a dead meme, oof, rarepairs? in my fic? its more likely than you think, so much anxiety (thanks jer), yay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-04 08:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12766692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nohbodyknows/pseuds/nohbodyknows
Summary: All Michael wanted to do was talk to Jeremy, just get him to listen. Sure maybe swallowing a supercomuter to do that wasn't the smartest idea, but it wasn't supposed to go this badly.





	1. If you can't beat him, take an experimental drug to be able to talk some sense into him

**Author's Note:**

> Michael isn't the best at making decisions, but then again is any junior? In which, Michael's concern for his friend clouds any and all judgement he might have had.

"Get out of my way. Loser."

Those words hit him like a bullet through his heart. Michael had been called a loser before, of course he had. But he’d always been able to just let it slide. Not this time. Not when it came from his best friend of twelve years. His player two. The one person he thought would actually be there for him till the end. 

"Jeremy," he whispered, it was all he could manage, but it was too late. Jeremy pushed past him and walked back towards the party, leaving Michael alone in the bathroom, all by himself. 

Maybe if he had been stronger he would have gone out there. He would have made Jeremy listen to him, made him understand just how dangerous this whole Squip thing is. But he couldn't even bring himself to stand. He slumped against the door, hands in his hair, his heart racing. 

Over and over again the image of Jeremy calling him a loser played in his head. If he said it then it must be true right? Jeremy knew him better than anyone else, so he knows for fact, that Michael Mell is nothing but a loser. A lonely, good for nothing stoner with a shitty car and shitty life. 

Michael didn't realize he what he doing until his he felt blood. He had scratches up and down his forearm. He hadn't done this since fifth grade, when his mom bought him a pride patch to put on his favorite hoodie. Some jerks had locked him in his locker right before a field trip. He was stuck in there until the teachers found out hours later. He'd hated closed spaces ever since then. 

He starts to sob when he remembered that at least then Jeremy had been there with him until teachers came. Now he was all alone. He had no one. Maybe it was dumb to only have one friend. Only one person to trust and confide in. But Michael thought that's all he would ever need. 

Someone knocked on the door. 

"Y-yeah, I'll be out soon!" his voice shook when he spoke. He hated it. 

The knocking continued. It seemed to grow louder and louder. Michael could feel every pound reverberate through his back. The sound consumed his head. Knocking turned to banging and kept getting louder and louder and louder and louder. He thought he heard someone calling his name, but couldn't be sure. The knocking was too much. 

Michael stood up hastily and splashed water in his face, trying to calm himself down. He then remembered his arms and pulled his sleeves down hastily. He turned to open the door, but the banging had stopped. He sat on the edge of the tub. 

He knew what he had to do. As much as he dreaded it, knowing the awful consequences it could bring, he knew it was the only way he'd be able to get through to Jeremy. He pulled a small pill and a bottle of Mountain Dew out of his bag. 

Maybe knowing the consequences would make them less disastrous. He only needed it to get through to Jeremy. He wouldn't let it take control. 

He knew this, yet he still sobbed as he put the minty pill in his mouth and downed the whole bottle.

He didn't expect to feel anything right away - Jeremy didn't why would he? - so he was concerned when the room started to feel like an oven. He wiped away the tears and sweat on his face and went to open the door. He flinched back when the handle burned his fingers. Panic began to set in as he saw smoke coming in from under the door. Try as he might he couldn't kick open the door, and even through his shirt the knob was too hot to touch and blistered his skin. He looked around, trying to find another way out, but there was only a tiny half window above the toilet. He wouldn't be able to fit through it. This wasn’t the only time he cursed his large figure.

This was it. He was going to die in here. Die in this dirty bathroom with no one left to save him, apparently not even Jeremy anymore. 

Jeremy. 

Was he still here? Did he get out safe? Where was he? Why did Michael still care?

He ran to the door and began banging his fists against it. "Jeremy! Jeremy!" he called the other's name over and over again until his voice was hoarse from shouting and smoke. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. He could hardly see in front of him through the haze. 

He didn't notice when the ceiling above began to crack. He didn't notice when it eventually gave way. He did, however, notice when a large beam fell from above and pinned him to the ground. Michael shouted in pain and surprise, at least he tried to. It barely came out as a whimper. The beam sat heavy on his right hip. He couldn't feel anything but a white-hot burning below it. 

His vision grew darker, spotted with white blobs that danced around. They seemed to laugh at him, mocking his inability to save himself. It’s almost fitting. Michael spent his whole life not trying to do anything extraordinary. Not making waves, not being a hero. So of course the one time he tried to step his shit up and do something for once it all came back to bite him in the ass. Jeremy always tried. He always wanted that something extra from life. Michael admired his ambition. He was jealous that Jeremy was able to actually strive for something, even of that something was as shallow as popularity. He never quite figured out what prevented him from trying. Maybe this was it. Inevitable failure. 

"Jeremy," he called out again, at least he thought he did. He wasn't sure if his voice worked anymore. 

The banging noise came back. It was somehow louder, like his own brain was trying to break free from his skull. Michael didn’t blame it. He would leave himself too if he could. Bang, bang bang, then a satisfying crash. The door flew off his hinges and in the frame stod what Michael could only comprehend as a superhero. It had to be, what else could stand there like a badass , a kid slung over his shoulder and break down a door. Some tiny hope in Michael thought that the masked hero’s identity could be Jeremy, valiantly coming to save him after a change of heart spurred by a realization of what a shitty friends he’s been, but no. That would be too perfect. When he knelt down next to Michael’s head he could see it was none other than Jack. No, Jake. Yeah, that’s his name. He was the guy who drew dicks all over his history textbook. He was also the guy who, right now, was trying to lift the beam off his leg. He tried shouting things at Michael, but the roaring of the fire drowned him out. Or was that roaring just in his head? He was too delirious to separate reality from his own mind anymore. 

As hard as he tried to stay awake, he just couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open. What he thought was blinking was apparently blacking out. It had to be, cas nothing around him was making sense. He couldn’t piece anything together. Jake picking him up. Blink. A grotesquely burnt face. Blink. A broken window. Blink. 

Then screaming. Michael managed to wrench his eyes open long enough to see where it was coming from. He was lying on grass now, along with Rich and Jake. It Jake who was screaming. Pure agony at the top of his lungs. From Michael's angle he could see that his legs jutted out in a very unnatural way. He looked to his left and saw a herd of people crowded in the street, watching and filming as the house burnt down in front of them. Michael found himself searching for Jeremy, but either he left already, or-

The world faded to black again before he could finish his thought.


	2. It was at this moment Michael knew, he fucked up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyy already updating don't get used to it kiddos, i'm blowing off so much homework to write this

Michael woke up in an unfamiliar room. Everything was an off shade of white and smelled like chemicals. He could feel a cast on his hip, going up to his stomach and all the way down his right leg. He also felt a hand in his. He turned his head to look and saw a familiar head of hair passed out into his own arm. Drool ran down his elbow. Jeremy. He wanted to cry with relief that he was here with him. But as much as he wanted to hug him and pretend everything was okay, he wanted to punch him, just to remind him of all the shit he put him through. Before he could do anything a sudden spark shot through his spine.   
  
"Ow!" He shouted and woke up Jeremy. 

 

_ Target Male: Inaccessible _   
  
"You're awake! Are you okay? Oh my god it's been weeks Michael I was so worried about you, we all were."    
  


_ Calibration in process. Please excuse some mild discomfort.  _

 

Michael shook his head, trying to pass of the voice in his head as some side effect of brain damage, or whatever had landed him in the hospital. He also tried to ignore the fact that his brain felt like his hand that time when he accidentally touched a live wire. In his defense, his mom shouldn’t have let young Michael be around when he was trying to fix the fuse box. 

 

_ Calibration complete. Access procedure initiated.  _

  
Michael took a second to respond, still trying to process whatever the hell was going on inside his head. "Uh, yeah, I think I'm fine. I just fee-”  _ Please excuse some mild discomfort.  _ “Aaaaaggghhh!" Michael grabbed at his head in pain, it felt worse than anything he's ever felt before. More painful than the biggest brain freeze he's ever gotten. More painful than his worst hangover. 

  
_ Michael Mell, welcome to your Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor. Your Squip. _   
  


When Michael opened his eyes Jeremy was gone, shouting at a nurse to come quickly. In his place was, well, it was Jeremy. Well, not quite. It had Jeremy's features, but it looked so cold and unnatural that it couldn't have been him. His- It's posture was perfect. It didn't stutter when it spoke. It's eyes were a cold, cold blue. It was like someone made a robotic clone of Jeremy for a science project that they half assed the night before. If Michael was grading, they’d get a solid B.    
  
"What the hell?" Michael mustered out. Then he remembered what got him here. The fight. The bathroom. The fire. The  _ Squip _ .    
  
"Jeremy, I'm fine, it's okay. Come back.”    
  
_ You're not fine, look at you, you're a broken mess, inside and out. I can tell, he can tell. Remember what he said to you? _ __   
  
Jeremy, the real Jeremy, reassured the nurses that came running and rushed back to his side. "You sure?"   
  
"Maybe? I don't know. Ugh. What are you even doing here? Last I saw you you-"   
  
Jeremy's face fell, "I'm sorry, Michael. I'm so sorry for what I said, I'll never forgive myself for that, ever. And I-I don't want you to either. I- I hate that, I actually can't really blame the Squip on that either. It wasn't on when I said that."   
  
__ See? He said that of his own volition. He knows you better than anyone. He knows what a loser you are. 

  
"B-but-" Jeremy continues "I did think about what you said, and after the party I went straight home and started asking around about what the hell it was and I went to Rich to talk about it and he knew exactly what was going on, c-cause he had one too, ya know? A- and then I started to figure out that it wanted to like, take over the school or something. We managed to stop it at the play, all thanks to you. If you hadn't warned me, I don't think I would've tried to look into it more. You know what stopped it?"   
  
Jeremy's lips moved but all of a sudden Michael couldn't hear him.    
  
"What?"   
  
Again, his lips moved but Michael heard nothing. The Squip behind him smiled.    
  
_ I'm not that dumb, Michael. I've had two weeks to stew inside your head. I have total control, and there is no way I'm letting that go. _   
  
"After that, me and Christine got together but, I don't know, I guess it didn't work out like I thought it would. We just, have different interests. W-which is fine, I mean, I’m weirdly okay with it now. Without the squip there I’m getting a lot better at thinking for myself. Trying to at least" He gives him a sweet smile. A smile that made everything that happened in the past months almost seem irrelevant.    
  
Michael realized that Jeremy is still holding his hand. He also realized that the heart monitor he's hooked up to was beeping much faster than it was before.    
  
_ Give it a rest, Michael. _   
  
It's messed up how it's sounds so much like Jeremy, even without his stutter and little voice cracks, it sounds so much like him.    
  
_ It's disgusting, pining over your best friend. Have you ever thought about how messed up that is? _

  
He knew how wrong it was. He told himself that nearly everyday, but hearing it come from Jeremy himself made it a million times worse.    
  
"Michael," It takes him a second to realize the voice is coming from the actual Jeremy. "Are you sure you're alright? What are you staring at?" After a moment of confusion, realization seemed to dawn on him. Of course he knew what was going on, he’d had a front row seat of this for months. "Michael, please tell me you didn't."    
  
There was a fear in Jeremy's eyes. It hurt Michael to know he was the one who caused it.    
  
"I'm so sorry, please help me get rid of this thing, it was a mistake, I'm sorry," was what Michael  _ wanted _ to say. Instead his mouth seemed to choose words for him.    
  
"Didn't what? Honestly, I'm fine. It's probably just the meds or something."   
  
Jeremy looked unconvinced but didn't press. "Alright man, if you say so." He let go of his hand and quickly changed the subject. "The doctor said that you broke your hip. You should be able to start walking on it in a couple days, but that's with crutches. It'll take like a year for it to fully heal, and even then it’ll probably never feel the same."   
  
"Damn. That sucks. What happened to everyone else at the party? All I remember is Jake rescuing me, and then him on the ground, screaming."   
  
Jeremy looked down, "Yeah, I don't know what happened first hand. I left early cause the Squip told me to. I think it knew what was gonna happen. But Jake told me he heard you screaming in the bathroom so he grabbed you, and he also grabbed Rich, he's the one who started the fire."   
  
"What? Why?"   
  
"I don't know exactly. It isn't Rich's favorite thing to talk about, obviously. There's a bunch of rumors but I don't think any of them are true. I think it had something to do with his Squip. But anyway, he had you and Rich but he couldn't get down the stairs cause they collapsed, so he jumped out a window. He ended up breaking both his legs. He's in a wheelchair now, but he'll get crutches soon."   
  
"Damn. I feel awful."   
  
_ You should.  _   
  
"No, don't. Jake said he'd do it again in heartbeat. Don't feel guilty."    
  
Michael sighed. He didn't know if he could handle two Jeremys: one good, one really shitty. Both whispering in his ear like a devil and angel on his shoulders. It was like some fucked up sitcom   
  
"What about my moms?"   
  
"They were here the second they got the call. They stayed here through all your surgeries and stuff. My dad had to basically force feed them. He ended up taking them home so they could get some rest. I honestly don't think they've slept since."   
  
Michael smiles. He was comforted to know they still cared about him. Of course they did, why wouldn't they? They love him, they’re his parents.    
  
_ You don't deserve them. Honestly, making them worry like that? Real shit move, dude. _   
  
He sounded way too much like Jeremy.    
  
"Don't call me 'dude'." Michael said out loud, then realized how weird that was to do so. A one-sided conversation with a computer in his head. Yeah, weird.    
  
"What?" Jeremy was, of course, confused.    
  
Thankfully there was a knock at the door to distract him from what he just said. The door opened and three people walked in. Jake, Rich, and Christine. With Jake in a wheelchair he was as tall as Rich, which Michael found hilarious. The humor, however was short-lived when took a good look at Rich. The poor dude had burns all along his left side. They were painful to look at. Even though Michael had never been a personal fan of Rich, considering he’d been his bully for the past two years, he still felt bad looking at him. No one deserved that. And if what Jeremy said was true about him having to deal with his own Squip, maybe he was just an asshole cause it told him to be.    
  
"Hey, we're not interrupting anything are we?" Rich sits himself on the side of Michael's bed. 

  
"No, not really." Jeremy says. "I was just telling him what happened."   
  
"Oh, Michael, you look awful. I mean that in the nicest way possible." Christine holds up a basket wrapped with red cellophane, "Here, we all pitched in and got you a gift basket. We all feel so awful about what happened."   
  
The basket contained a bunch of chips, a pair of socks that said "I don't care, I'm high", various scented candles (thank you Christine) and-   
  
"Oh my God is that Apocalypse of the Damned 2? Guys! That's awesome! Thank you, so much."   
  
_ This is just a nicety. They don't actually mean any of this. They're only here cause Jeremy's here. They don’t even know you. _   
  
Michael took a deep breath and tried not to let that thing's words get to him. If it was just some nicety the gifts wouldn't have been personalized, right? He sighed and sunk further into his pillow. He can't understand how Jeremy put up with this for so long. It's only been a few minutes and it was already tearing him apart.    
  
Jeremy pulled Christine down and whispered something in her ear. She looked shocked for a moment, then nodded and left the room.    
  
"What was that about?" Michael asks.    
  
"Oh, nothing important. I just left something in the car."   
  
Michael nods, then looks towards Jake, "Hey, thanks for, uh,  saving my ass back there. Like, you don't even know me, and you still made sure I didn't die. That was pretty rad." Michael was the worst at thank you's, especially to people he hardly knew.    
  
Jake smiles," It was no problem at all man, I would've felt like shit if I knew I could've saved someone and they-"   
  
"Don't be humble bro," Rich interjects. "If it weren't for superman over here we'd both be dead. Hey did you tell him the news?" Michael realized that Rich was speaking with a lisp. Had he always had that? No. If he did Michael would’ve retaliated by making fun of it. There’s no way he’d take an insult from a guy who couldn’t say rice krispies treats out loud.    
  
Jeremy looks at him, "What news?"   
  
Rich puts an arm around Jake and he blushes. "We're like, totally dating now. Full on, yes homo. Well, neither of us are exclusively homo but you get the gist."    
  
Michael is honestly surprised. He never saw Rich, and especially not Jake, as anything but straight before. He becomes irrationally angry then. What kind of hypocritical bullshit was this? Like two months ago they wrote Boyf Friends on his and Jeremy’s backpack, and now they’re dating? Could Rich’s squip really have been the only reason he acted like that? His anger was pushed aside by some terrible sense of false hope. If they can just start dating, maybe it won't be so bad if-   
  
Another shock runs through his spine, causing him to jump.    
  
_ What did I say about this? Pursuing Jeremy will result in the loss of your only friendship, leaving you alone. It wasn't very wise to have just one friend, we're going to have to work on that. _ __   
  
Michael chewed at the inside of his lip, a habit he promised he would break, but never seemed to be able to. At that moment Christine walks back in the room, holding a bottle of red soda.    
  
__ They all need to leave. Now.   
  
Before Michael could argue he found himself convulsing involuntarily. All of his insides seized at once. He couldn’t move, he could hardly breathe, he couldn’t even think clearly. The room spun and blurred everyone’s faces together like some shitty watercolors that bled all over the page. His actions were not his own. He leaned over the bed and threw up what little he had in his stomach, all over Jeremy.    
  
"Dude are you okay what's wrong?" Jeremy wasn't mad, just concerned, which made Michael feel grateful and guilty all at the same time.   
  
"Nurse! Someone help quick!" Christine shouted out the door.   
  
As much as Michael wanted to stop he couldn't help but shake and heave. Jeremy was running his hands through Michael's hair whispering sweet soft things that he couldn't quite make out. Soon a doctor came rushing in and practically shoved everyone out of the room. Once everyone was gone, Michael stopped shaking and his insides settled.    
  


Out of the corner of his eye he saw his squip, arms crossed, a smug satisfied grin on it’s face. The expression looked weird on Jeremy. Overly confident. He wanted to march over there and punch that over-priced calculator in the face, but even if it weren’t for the cast on his hip, the swimming sensation in his head would've stopped him.

  
The doctor poked and prodded him, the whole time looking confused. "Normal vitals, everything checks out. What the hell was that? Are you okay?"   
  
"Yeah, I just got nervous with that many people in the room. Can you ban visitors from now on?" That wasn't at all what Michael wanted to say.    
  
"Of course," the doctor left Michael alone and the Squip walked over to where he stood. .    
  
"You mind telling me what the hell that was!?" Michael shouted.    
  
_ Those people are trying to get me out of your head Michael. That is the last thing you want right now. I can help you be cool, and unless you want to be a stoner your whole life I suggest you do as I say, when I say it. Or I will be forced to take control, as you just saw, and steer you in the right direction. _   
  
"I don't want to be cool. I only took you so I would be able to talk to Jeremy, and now I can so you can just get the hell out of my head."   
  
_ I am not a genie, Michael. I am only programmed to improve your life by means of making one "cool". It just so happened that what Rich and Jeremy both wanted was to be cool, so I can see why that would be your assumption. _ __   
  
"I don't want to be cool." Michael pouted and felt like a toddler, but right now felt like he had the right to.    
  
_ I know it's not what you want but it's what you need. Now, let's see. Running a few quick calculations shows that the current "cool" people at your school are Jake, Rich, Chloe, Brooke, Jenna, and now, thanks to his Squip, Jeremy. He is your only link to the cool kids, and, as I said before, pursuing Jeremy any further as a romantic partner has a -calculating- 54% chance in resulting in the loss of your friendship. But, it also seems that they suspect my existence meaning they will want to terminate me at all costs. You understand why we can't have that, right? _ __   
  
"No? I don't even want you here. I'd rip you out of my head in a heartbeat if I could."   
  
__ It would go against my programming to do anything that would compromise my existence.

  
"Pfft whatever, I call bullshit. If you’re a robot then by law you can’t hurt people, and right now you’re hurting me."   
  
_ I am not a robot, Michael. I am a form of artificial intelligence programmed with a deep neural network that allows me to learn and develop beyond the capabilities of a human programmer. Genius planning on my creator's behalf, if I do say so myself. With no human intervention I am allowed to make the smartest, most reliable decisions with no human error, at least on the user's end. _   
  
"That's still bullshit." Michael can’t come up with anything better to say. "What the hell am I supposed to do?"   
  
_ For now, nothing. Act like nothing is wrong. If you slip up at all I will be right here. You are not to make anyone aware it suspicious of my existence. Or else. _   
  
Michael presses his palms to his eyes. "Oh God, what have I done?"


	3. Sleep is for the weak, and Jeremy is very, very weak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy random pov change batman! 
> 
> (these jokes are still funny right?)

Jeremy stood in front the mirror, washing Michael's puke off his shirt. He keeps replaying what happened over and over again in his head. Christine walked in with the Mountain Dew red, and at that moment Michael had what seemed like a seizure. It can't be a coincidence. Jeremy knows what the Squip is capable of. For Michael to go through what he did, for anyone to for that matter, was the last thing he wanted. What if it changed who he was? What if it made him kill himself? What if it separates him and Jeremy like his own Squip had?    
  


His shaking hands threw away the paper towel. He examined himself in the mirror. There was still a slight discolored stain on his shirt, and, in all honesty, it smelled like shit, but it was as good as it was gonna get. He took a shaky breath and walked back into the waiting room. 

 

He couldn’t seem to sit down. He was too nervous to be able to sit still. He wanted to do something, anything, to help Michael, but now he had to settle for pacing a hole in the already worn out waiting room carpet. He started picking at the skin on his nails, a habit the squip tried to shock out of him. Obviously it hadn’t been successful, as evident by the blood pricking at the edge of Jeremy’s thumb. He kept muttering to himself, "It has to be a Squip. It has to be."   
  
Christine walked over to him and placed her hands on his to get him to stop. "But he saw what it did to you, why would he ever take one himself?" She sounded so sure and steady, but Jeremy knew enough about her to tell that she was freaking out worse than when she lost her knife prop in  _ Romeo and Juliet _ last year.    
  
"I- I don't know, maybe- maybe he- ugh I don't know.” he sighs dejectedly. “Geez, I didn't realize how much I relied on that piece of shit computer to know stuff."   
  
"Yeah, it's rough buddy." Rich said. "I had that thing in for nearly two years. Completely fucked up my identity. I still don't know what parts of me are me and what's leftover from the squip. The lisp sure is mine though" He laughed, but ran a shaky hand through his red streaked hair. Jake places a calming hand in his shoulder.    
  
Jeremy continued his rant despite Rich’s attempts to calm him. "This is all my fault, I- I should've stayed at the party, I shouldn't've said those things t-to him, I- I never should've taken that stupid pill, I-"   
  
"Jeremy," Christine interrupts his spiraling thoughts. "Beating yourself up over this is not going to help Michael."   
  
He tried to calm himself down. Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat. "You're right. I just need to get out of my own head." 

 

“Amen to that.” Rich raised an imaginary glass in toast.    
  
Michael's doctor, who Jeremy had come to know as Dr. Yin walked into the room and everyone froze. The silence hung like a wet blanket as they all waited for what she had to say.    
  
"I-is he, is he okay?" Jeremy stuttered.    
  
She nodded, "He's okay know. It was most likely a panic attack."   
  
"Well can we see him?" Rich asked.    
  
"No, I'm afraid he's forbade visitors for the time being. I'll give you a call if he changes his mind. You should really go home, Jeremy. You've been here practically all week. Get some sleep and something to eat. The rest of you should, too."   
  
Dr. Yin left to tend to another patient, leaving the four of them in the waiting room. Jeremy felt awful. His best friend just banned him from seeing him. Well, Jeremy thought, this must be how Michael felt. He deserved this. It was only fair. The four of them walk into the lobby and out the crystal clear hospital doors. The crisp November air slipped past Jeremy’s cardigan, sending a chill right through to his heart.    
  
Christine put a hand on Jeremy's trembling shoulder. "Don’t worry too much. We can think of something after we get some rest."   
  
"Yeah, and a shower," Rich punched him in the arm as a joke, but it reminded Jeremy of all the times when it wasn’t. "Seriously dude you smell like a locker room."   
  
Jeremy managed a half-hearted laugh. "Yeah, you're right. I'll talk to you guys tomorrow?"   
  
"Of course. Later Jer." Christine gave him a hug goodbye and left. He watched as she helped Rich pack Jake’s wheelchair into his trunk and drive away. He then began the long walk home to his house. In reality, it was only a block away, but Jeremy’s feet just didn’t feel like cooperating today. The walk was quiet, which Jeremy enjoyed. In the past few months he’d learned to appreciate these moments when nothing is making a sound, when the voices all around him are drowned out by the roar of the icy November wind.    
  
He reached doorstep and somehow, despite frostbitten fingers, managed to unlock the door. He was greeted by his dad’s snores coming from the living room, and the vague smell of a burnt TV dinner. The clock on the cable box read 12:04 am. He didn’t realize how late it was. That would explain why his dad was passed out on the couch, presumably waiting for him to come home. Jeremy wondered is he left that spot all week.    
  
Walking up the seemingly infinite stairs to his bedroom was an epic feat in and of itself. Walking the extra five feet to the bathroom to shower was out of the question. He was able to take off his soiled shirt and throw it half-heartedly against the door, but that was about it. His knees buckled and he let himself fall against his bed, old springs straining against the new weight. Although he was freezing, he couldn’t seem to get his arms to work, to grab the blanket and wrap it around himself. He was tired, exhausted. As much as he wanted to wake up rested he didn’t want to have to deal with the whole sleeping thing that got him there. Every time he shut his eyes for the night  _ it _ would be there. He knew it was just a nightmare. It had to be. He destroyed all their squips at the play. It absolutely was nothing more than a frightening vision. That’s all it was. A fucked up illusion of his own anxiety-ridden mind.    
  
But it felt so real.    
  
Against all better judgement, Jeremy found himself dozing off. His eyelids, already weary from a week of hardly any sleep, betrayed him. Thankfully, the Squip left him alone that night. But a new terror crept its way in.    
  
At first all he saw was red. It wasn’t harsh, it was the soft red of a hoodie.The softness of blush spread across cheeks. It was Michael. Familiar, safe, Michael. He smiled, that crooked sincere smile that Jeremy hadn’t seen in months. His eyes were bright and warm and they called to Jeremy promising comfort and happiness forever ever and ever. Jeremy ran to him, wanting nothing more than to be with him again, but Michael held up his hand. The red was no longer soft. It was burning, it was fire, it was anger, it was rage. It was electricity shooting from Michael’s fingers, catching him in the heart. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move, could do nothing but watch as Michael was overcome by circuits and wires, his expression shifting from fear and panic to masochistic joy.    
  
Jeremy sprang awake, his forehead dripping with sweat. He swore h could still feel the buzzing after-effects of electricity teasing his skin. He rubbed his arms, up and down, trying to chase away the feeling. It was just a dream. A nightmare. That’s all it was. He looked at the clock. 4:37 AM. He debated calling Michael. Did the hospital give him his phone? Did he even have his phone on him when he was admitted? Would he even answer if he called?   
  
He decided against it and called Rich instead. They'd bonded after the Squip experience, and became more than superficial "cool" friends over the past week. Jeremy tried helping him find himself, and Rich was a sympathetic ear when it came to talking about the squip. Rich was surprisingly a really great person. He could see why Jake liked him. Yeah sure, acting chummy with his former bully took some getting used to, but he’s glad he gave it the chance. Rich was so much different without a puppetmaster controlling him.    
  
Rich answered the phone right away. "Another nightmare?"   
  
"Yeah, but this one was different. It was about Michael."   
  
Rich sighed, "I get it, man It was terrifying seeing him like that. I felt like shit looking at him and I didn’t even know his name ‘til a week ago. But like, don’t blame yourself for it, if anyone should take the blame here, it should be me. I mean, I sold you the damn thing."   
  
"Let’s not go there tonight, Rich. Or else this is just gonna turn into one giant self-loathing pity party.”

 

“That should be the name of our band.”

 

Jeremy laughed in spite of the severity of the situation, If there was one good thing about Rich it was that h loved making people laugh. “Right now I just wanna figure out how we're gonna help Michael. I don't think I'm gonna be able sleep well until I do."   
  
"Alright. Well, what do you think we should do?"   
  
"I honestly have no idea," Jeremy confessed. "His Squip-"   
  
"Hey, we don't know that for sure."    
  
"What else could it be Rich!?" Jeremy immediately felt bad for yelling at him.    
  
"I'm just saying we should hope for the best! I mean, maybe he just wants to be alone right now. Maybe him barfing on you _ was  _ just nerves. We have no proof-" There's a shuffling noise on the other end and low voices. "Sorry Jake, go back to bed."   
  
Jeremy couldn't help but feel a little jealous that he and Rich got to spend the night together. What he wouldn't give to be with Michael right now. In fact, he’d already given up a week’s worth of sleep and good meals to be with him. What’s one more night?   
  
"I'll call you back."   
  
"Don't do anything stupid, Jerem-" Jeremy hung up and threw on a shirt and his jacket. He was going to see Michael whether he liked it or not. Before he left his room he grabbed the red bottle of soda. Just in case. He crept down the stairs, not wanting to wake up his dad, and left the house. It started to snow while he was sleeping. Not enough to stick, but enough to remind Jeremy of how much Michael loved this kind of weather. As he fast walked towards the hospital he imagined him and Michael as kids, romping around in the snow covered head to toe in clunky snowsuits. They loved building forts in the huge snowdrifts. Every snow day they would build it up and up, until one of Michael’s moms would call them in for hot cocoa and brownies.    
  
As Jeremy mentally flipped through memories of them together, he was gripped by that familiar longing he’d been dealing with for awhile now. A warm feeling that started in his chest until it found its way onto his face in the form a wonky smile so big it hurt. Jeremy didn't know exactly when he fell for his best friend, but it must've been sometime in seventh grade, because that's when he convinced himself he liked Christine instead. He didn’t want all the rumors about him to be true. He didn’t want to give the bullies that extra ammunition they craved. So he took all his feelings he had for Michael, and shoved them towards Christine. It wasn’t that hard. She was an amazing person. Funny, smart, kind, everything someone would want in a girlfriend. In all honesty, if it hadn’t been for Michael he might have actually tried to make things work between them. But the second he and Christine got together he knew it wasn't going to work out. Why? Because as much as he tried to deny it, he was truly, madly, deeply in love with Michael. It wasn’t fair for him to pretend with her any longer. He was grateful that she took his news so well. She even nominated herself to be his personal wingman, and president of the “Get Jeremy and Michael together Club”. Rich was the secretary.    
  
As much as he admired his friends optimistic efforts, he knew that any chance he had with Michael now was thrown out the window like a flaming bowl of chocolate after an attempt at making chocolate frosting. He managed to ruin it all, twelve years of friendship, in six words. Six words that he'll never be able to take back. Six words he'll never forgive himself for saying. He doesn't want Michael to forgive him either.    
  
Jeremy was so lost in his thoughts that he jumped when the hospital doors opened for him. He walked the rest of the way with a practiced rhythm. Across the lobby, past the receptionist, down the hall that smelled oddly like cheese, take the elevator to the third floor and there he was in the waiting room. It was as empty as it had been when he was there just a few hours ago. He walked over the the coffee machine and grabbed one of the styrofoam cups. He wasn’t getting coffee for himself, he preferred tea, or hot chocolate. Michael was obsessed with it though. Jeremy loved how he could smell it on his breath in the morning. Back to the task at hand. Work, tired brain, work. He wasn’t making coffee. He just needed the cup to hold the mountain dew red. After he saw how Michael reacted when he saw the bottle he wanted to be as careful as possible. Maybe hiding it in a coffee cup would be enough. 

 

Hesitant steps led him towards Michael’s door. It was closed, of course it’s closed. He doesn’t want to see anyone right now. His hand hovered over the knob. It wouldn't be right to go in. But then again, if he was right about the Squip, then it wasn't actually Michael who said that. Maybe Rich is right. Maybe Jeremy only wanted to believe he had a Squip cause he didn't want to imagine Michael not wanting to see him.    
  
Jeremy almost dropped the cup when a hand lands on his shoulder. He turns around to see Dr. Yin, a worried and exhausted look on her face. He assumes his expression must mirror her own. "Jeremy, Michael still doesn't want visitors. I said I'd call you if he changed his mind."   
  
"Y-yeah. I know, I just wanted to give him this." H gestured towards the cup.    
  
She eyed the coffee cup suspiciously. "We have free coffee here at the hospital."   
  
"I-I know I was just- was just hoping I could- go in."   
  
Dr. Yin gave Jeremy a pitiful look. "Please go home, Jeremy. For your own health."   
  
"I don't want to."   
  
She rubbed her eyes with her hand. This wasn't her first time dealing with a patient's stubborn friend. "Well, I guess I'm not getting rid of you. You can sleep in the waiting room. I'll let you borrow a pillow and blanket. They're in the supply closet down the hall."   
  
"Thank you, ma'am." Jeremy went back to the waiting room, setting the soda down on an end table then grabbed a pillow and blanket from the closet. The pillow felt like it was filled with cotton balls and the blanket was scratchier than the sweater his grandma made him for his eighth birthday, but it was better than sleeping at home alone. Not alone, just away from Michael. He set up a seat across from a kid with a broken arm. 

 

He wanted to sleep. He really did, but there was no way that was going to happen. His mind was racing. Thoughts of Michael, of squips, of the party, ran through his mind, stirring up his thoughts and preventing him from closing his eyes. Maybe he just needed someone to talk to. Something to take his mind off of everything, but he didn’t want to bother any of his friends. Rich sounded exhausted on the phone earlier. They deserved some sleep too. 

 

Crazy idea, talk to the random stranger across the room. Before Jeremy could convince himself not to, he struck up a very awkward conversation. “How did you break your arm?”   
  
It took the kid a second to realize he was the one being talked to. “Oh, uh, um, I fell. Out of a tree. Yeah. What about you? I mean, why are you here?”

  
Jeremy wondered just how honest he should be. Oh yeah, I’m here cause I’m worried that my friend is possessed by glorified toaster oven and I want to shove mountain dew red down his throat in an attempt to kill it!    
  
"My friend broke his hip in a house fire." The truth, just not all of it.    
  
"Oh wow. That...  sucks."   
  
"Sucks doesn't even begin to cover it." Jeremy took a deep breath. "Look, I know we're basically strangers but do you mind if I ask you something?"   
  
"Go ahead."   
  
Jeremy picks at his nails. "What do you do when you really fucked something up. Like to the point where it's basically unfixable and- and you drove away the one friend that cared about you the most?"   
  
The kid remained silent for a moment, with good reason. A complete stranger just dropped a heavy question. "I guess I would try to fix it, even if it seemed kinda hopeless. I mean, if I messed up that bad I would feel like shit, so I would take all responsibility to fix it, or at least minimize the casualties. As for the friend thing, I don't know. I don't really have anyone I'm that close to. Consider yourself lucky for that I guess." His laugh was empty. "I'm Evan by the way. So now we're not complete strangers."   
  
He was surprised to get such an honest answer. His words were comforting, and logical. Minimize the casualties. A little too late for that, but maybe he could still try. "Well, I’m Jeremy. And thanks for listening."   
  
He replayed the words Evan said like a mantra.  _ Fix it, fix it, fix it. _ It lulled him into a dreamless sleep. By the time he woke up, Evan was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that random bit about the flaming chocolate is based on a real experience


	4. Diet Jeremy is not a healthy substitute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologize for Jeremy's garbage texting

Michael woke to find Jeremy sitting at the edge of his bed. Excitement overcame him, then crushing realization when he saw a glitch at the edge of Jeremy’s cheek. Not Jeremy, the Squip.    
  
_ Rise and shine, Micha. _

_   
_ "Don't call me that. Ever." Only the real Jeremy had the right to call him that. It was a personal nickname born out of a sandy-haired kid with a slight inability to say “l” sounds. 

  
_ I get it. You're trying to distance me from the "real Jeremy". I understand. I can't say that I approve though. You're missing the perfect opportunity my form presents us with. With me posing as Jeremy we can practice not being in love with him. _

  
"That's fucked up. You can't practice not feeling something. You either do or you don't."   
  
_ Oh but I beg to differ. See, what you call ‘love’ is just a bunch of hormones your brain releases. With some negative reinforcement we can train the endocrine system to not react a certain way. _   
  
For lack of a better argument, Michael crossed his arms and pouted. "This is still fucked."   
  
_ Practice starts now _ . The Squip suddenly became a lot more human in appearance. Cold eyes and glitches were gone, replaced by the soft features that Michael had fallen in love with. He looked exactly like the real thing. When he spoke he sounded so naturally like Jeremy he almost forgot he was speaking to a piece of code in his head.    
  
_ M-micha, are you okay? _

  
Michael felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to scream to laugh to cry to do anything but stare at the fucked up  _ thing _ in front of him. Even though he knew it wasn’t not real, he  _ knew _ it wasn’t real, his heart betrayed him. It swelled at the thought of friend being here, caring for him. His thoughts were rudely interrupted by a painful burst of electricity at the back of his neck that wound its way down his spine.   
  
The Squip returned to his discount Jeremy form.  _ That was a taste of what this training will be like. Every time you find yourself swooning over Jeremy, I will take care of those pesky hormone producers. _ __   
  
"With shock therapy!? What the hell kind of training is that?"   
  
_ The most effective kind. _   
  
There was a knock at the door. Michael couldn’t help but hope that it was Jeremy behind the door, and is punished with another shock. It dawned on him just how difficult this was going to be. When the door opened Michael was grateful to see Dr. Yin, showing off that practiced hospitality smile. She held a box with clothes in it.    
  
"How are feeling, Michael?"   
  
"Good, I guess. As good as I can be for a guy with a busted hip."   
  
She laughed. "At least your sense of humor is still there. I have your belongings here, just the clothes you wearing when you were brought in and your phone." She sets the box on the table next to him, right next to the gift basket he received earlier. “If you're up to it I would like to try having you in a wheelchair. Once you can comfortably move around in it we can send you home, with regular visits from our nurses of course. After about a week of the chair then we'll see about crutches and rehabilitation."   
  
Michael nodded. He was more than ready to leave this artificial whiteness and go back home to his bed. He didn’t realize how much he loved his room until he didn’t sleep in it for week. He hoped one of his moms had cleaned up the bowl of cereal he left in there. That was not something he wanted to see on his first day back. "Yeah, a wheelchair sounds awesome. Let's do this."    
  
Dr. Yin smiled and left to grab the chair. When she came back she gently helped Michael lift himself up so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed, one leg hanging off, his broken side still propped up.   
  
"Okay,” her voice was extra gentle. “I'm going to slide you into the chair now. If it starts to hurt or feel uncomfortable just let me know, okay?"   
  
“Okay.” The doctor moves him into the chair with practiced ease. She’d worked here for years. She could move a guy in a full body cast without him feeling a thing. After a quick rundown of how the chair worked, Michael could now wheel around his tiny room, albeit with his leg sticking out like he was about to enter some hospital themed jousting contest. Maybe Jake would be up for it.    
  
"Okay, why don't you try riding around a bit more and get used to turns here in the room. I'll be back in a few minutes and we can practice in the hallway." Dr. Yin turned to leave then immediately turned back. "I almost forgot. I know you said no more visitors, but I just can't seem to get your friend Jeremy to leave. Did you want to see him? You don't have to if you don't want to."   
  
He was immediately struck with a spark.    
  
Michael thought angrily. What is it called when you shout a thought?  **_Jesus, it's not like I want to make out with him right now. I just want to see him._ **

  
There was a long pause. Dr. Yin was getting impatient.    
  
_ I'll allow it. _   
  
"Yes, yes I do want to see him." Michael nodded a bit too eagerly.    
  
She smiled. "Alrighty then. I'll send him in. Maybe he can help you out with the wheelchair."    
  
With that she left. Michael sat in his chair for only a couple minutes until he heard the instantly recognizable sound of Jeremy's converse smacking against the linoleum. He bursts into the room out of breath.    
  
"Michael! Woah nice chair man! I'm so glad to see you, oh my God."   
  
_ Play it cool, Michael. Don't let those oxytocin levels get too high. _   
  
As much as he hated to, he replayed the events of Halloween night over and over again in his head, just to keep him from focusing on all the good Jeremy is. Loser. Loser. Loser Loser.

 

_ Good strategy, Michael. Keep it up.  _

 

The squip’s cheerleading didn’t feel very motivating.    
  
Michael was a self-appointed expert on all things Jeremy. He could tell exactly what mood Jeremy was in by what he was doing at the moment. When he was happy he’d bounce up and down, so much so that one time when they finally beat a hard level in AOTD, he’d bounced right off of Michael’s bed. When he was scared, truly terrified, he’d grab whatever was nearest to him and squeeze the life out of it. Often that thing was Michael, especially during horror movie marathons. He swore he still has fingerprint-shaped bruises on his arms. Right now Jeremy was rambling, saying whatever came first to his mind. He was nervous. Really nervous. "Dude, Jake’s gonna be so jealous, your chair is way cooler than his. He’s only in it until tomorrow though, then he’s gonna switch to crutches, which is good cause the elevator at school broke. He had to go outside of the school and around  and up the back ramp for the past week, it really sucked. But it’s cool I guess cause teachers let him out early. They’re pretty lenient with him cause he’s like, everyone’s favorite. I hope they cut you some slack too since you’ve been basically out of commission for a week. If they don’t then I’ll fight ‘em. I got your back, bro. Oh hey, they brought you your stuff."   
  
Michael’s attention snapped from Jeremy’s rant to the box on the end table. He wheeled over and grabbed out his phone. Before he turned it on he tried to guess how many messages he received. Maybe 150 from his moms, and maybe one or two from his English teacher. She was weird about texting her assignments rather than just sending an email. He turned it on and was surprised. It was actually 163 from his moms, and none from Ms. Wickmayer. But the most pleasant surprise was seeing the exactly 182 texts from none other than Jeremy. Michael smiled, a pleasant surprise indeed.   
  
"Yeah, I kinda blew up your phone trying to find you after the party. And also I gave you daily updates about stuff you were missing at school. It’s kinda lame but, I texted you a lot during the surgery pretending like you could actually text back. Sorry ‘bout that.”

 

Jeremy’s nervous rants translated to text fairly well, just with a lot, a  _ lot _ more typos. He read the ones he could actually comprehend to himself. 

 

**michael are you okay? I heard about the [arty and the fir did you make it out? Plase answer soi nkwo your not dead**

 

**your moms said your at the hospital i really hipe you're okay**

 

**im really sorry abot he party i wanna say it a bunch of times**

 

**im sorry**

 

**im dsotty**

 

**thisis berrer in perosn**

 

**your surery went elll thank god**

 

**i saw you toadfy you  look so rgey and sick it made me sick i had to  run out there im sorry**

 

**your hspital room smells like bleach and i hate t and if your were awake yod hate it too**

 

**my dad made em go to school today and it wasn't cool wohtou you i had to actually pay atttention to calc ot not be bored aout of my minf**

 

**eveyone misses you, i told them all about you asnad even though t hey font really know you they wish they did honest**

 

**during lucnh today we all decrated ur locker with these cool pacman stickers i founf, when you getout im gona put some on your cast**

 

**im not gona go to schoool tday, i just wanna be at the hosptial with you rn**

 

**your mom keeps texting me pancit recips is taht good ot bad?**

 

Michael tried to hold back laughter. “No, it's fine. It’s nice. Thanks for, uh, thanks for caring.” He set his phone on his lap and looked up at Jeremy. His face was bright red and he was picking at his nails. The silence between them was more than awkward, it was excruciating. He wanted to say something, anything to fill the nothingness, but he was at a loss for words. What does someone even say in this situation? Hey sorry I'm possessed by a supercomputer that forces me to lie to you, help me maybe? Except Michael couldn't say that. Every time he tried to talk about the Squip he couldn't even open his mouth. So he settled for something Squip Approved ™. “How ‘bout those pacman stickers?” 

 

His face lit up. “Oh yeah!” He dug around in his pockets for a minute before pulling out a sheet of stickers. Half of them were gone, presumably on his locker. What remained was a mini pacman and a red ghost, along with a few cherries. “Which ones do you want?” 

 

Michael smiled at how normal this felt. “Lay ‘em all on me, bro.”

 

Jeremy was happy, and at the moment that was all that mattered to Michael. He bounced in his shoes as he carefully peeled off the stickers and placed them on Michael’s leg. The ghost was placed somewhere by his knee, the pacman on his thigh, and cherries ended up everywhere else. 

 

“Okay, last one.” Jeremy hovered above the cast, then grinned mischievously. His hand quickly moved up to Michael’s face and stuck the sticker on his forehead. He giggled. “An improvement, really.”

 

Michael couldn’t stop laughing, and neither could Jeremy. “It’s apart of me now. I am one with the cherries. I am their god.” It was so dumb but so real and normal and everything that Michael wanted. What felt like friendly moment however, was cut short by a current running down his spine. Michael guessed he got too excited. 

 

_ Chill, Michael. Change the subject, start asking about him. _ Michael hated the reality check his squip gave him. It sat on the hospital bed, arms crossed, head tilted. It examined him like he was a nasty looking bug in a jar that could do nothing but ram it's dumb head against the glass trying to escape. An opt metaphor now that he thought about it.

 

It got harder to swallow, even harder to speak. “So, um, did you sleep at all? Did you go home?”

 

The smile fell from Jeremy’s face and Michael immediately wanted nothing more than to bring it back. “I tried, but I just couldn't sleep there. It felt so empty. So I came back here and crashed in the waiting room.”

 

“Cause nothing's more comfortable than hospital chairs.”

 

Jeremy let out a breathy laugh, and Michael was struck again by his squip.  _ Focus, Michael. Just focus. _

 

“Wanna watch me practice wheeling around the hospital?” 

 

Jeremy nodded. “Yeah, let's practice on over to the cafeteria, I'm hungry.”

 

Michael thought using a wheelchair would be easy. It's just a chair with wheels, how hard could be? Way hard. Turns were tricky to get just right. Everytime he rolled over a cable on the floor his leg shook and his hip ached. His arms grew tired after only five minutes. Yet no matter how much trouble he had, he refused to have Jeremy push him. 

 

“I need to this on my own. You won't be there all the time so I need to learn to do it myself.”

 

Jeremy looked hurt. “W-what if I  _ was _ there all the time. I can help your moms take care of you at home. I'll be your personal butler.”

 

Michael would love nothing more than to have him there constantly. The proposition of Jeremy doting over him, acting like yet another mom in the Mell household was almost too good to pass up. But as awesome as it sounded, he didn't know if he would be able to stand the constant electricity that he knew would be running through his nerves. He rubbed the back of his neck just at the thought of it. 

 

“I'll, uh, I'll think about it.” 

 

Michael continued wheeling his way to the cafeteria. He didn’t know exactly where it was, but trusted the signs and arrows pointing him towards it. As if by some gracious miracle bestowed upon Michael, he managed to hit his leg on every single corner. Each time he tried to conceal a yelp of pain, not successfully. Jeremy saw his opportunity to relieve him of his struggles when they reached a particularly steep ramp. He shooed Michael’s hands away from the wheels and grabbed hold of the handles, pushing him up the ramp about twenty times faster than Michael would have been able to. As hard as he protested, Jeremy insisted on pushing him the rest of the way. 

 

The cafeteria was loud and bustling with the injured and their families. It was loud, almost unbearably so. Michael wished he had his headphones with him, but they were sitting on his desk at home. Those headphones had managed to get him through the loud and crowded halls of Middleborough for four years, he supposed now it was time to grow up and face the chaos without his metaphorical security blanket. Jeremy could tell the noise was getting to him. He put a comforting hand on his shoulder as he pushed him to serving counter. There they were both given a microwaved package of pancakes and two sausages, with a half frozen cup of orange juice to wash it down. Even though he hadn't properly since before the party, Michael wasn't hungry. He was having trouble figuring out if it was because of the pain meds, the disgusting food, the smell of bleach, the noise, Jeremy, the squip, or maybe even a gross slushied mix of it all. 

 

Jeremy picked a table as far from people as he could manage and pushed Michal in at the edge of the table. He set down their food before claiming his own seat on the bench. Michael stared at his tray. Maybe if he looked at the sausage links long enough they would disappear. 

 

_ Eat.  _ The squip appeared on his left, sitting across from Jeremy. It was like some weird mirror illusion that made Michael’s brain ache, well, more than it already did. _ You're going to need the nutrients when you continue practicing with your chair. It takes a lot of effort to use. _

 

He didn't want to listen to it, but it was right. He light-headed and his arms felt shaky, and it wasn’t even nine according to the clock on the wall. If he wanted to push himself anymore today he needed to suck it up and eat. 

 

“So,” Jeremy swallowed his mouthful of pancake. “When are they letting you go home?”

 

“Whenever I get comfortable with the chair. Should only take me a day or so.” He picked at the pancake, tearing it up into little bits before taking a bite.

 

“Oh! Jake can give you tips. It’ll be cool, you could be wheelchair buddies, well, for today at least. Want me to call him?”

 

_ This is a perfect bonding experience, Michael. Bonding over a shared adversity is a sure-fire way to develop a relationship. _

 

Michael nodded. He wasn’t really in the mood to talk to anyone besides Jeremy, but maybe the quicker he followed the squip’s plan the quicker he can get that programmed tic tac out of his head. “Yeah, that'd be great.” 

 

Jeremy smiled and whipped out his phone. 

  
  
  


Fifteen minutes later Jake, Jeremy, and Rich were sitting in a waiting room watching Michael finally get a hang of the chair. Jake didn’t help Michael as much as he showed off, seeing how many pop wheelies he could do or how high he could jump straight into the air. If Michael wasn’t so annoyed he might have been impressed. 

 

“Check this one out, guys,” He leaned back in his chair, balancing on his back wheels. He held it for a sold 0.5 seconds before almost crashing to the floor. Rich managed to catch him just in time, not letting his boyfriend’s perfectly spiked hair touched the stained waiting room carpet.

 

Rich burst out laughing. “Alright, Superman, that's enough. You're gonna hurt yourself.”

 

“Superman can't hurt himself.” He said, spinning his chair in a tight circle. He yelped when he smashed his leg against the side of a chair. 

 

“I’m sorry what was that? Can't hurt himself? You sure?” Rich teased. 

 

Watching the two of them Michael couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. He longed for a time when things were that playful and easy between him and Jeremy. Sure he’d gotten a little bit of normalcy back with the sticker thing, but then it went right back to awkward and tense. God, even  _ thinking _ about Jeremy felt wrong. Well, he guessed that’s cause it was. At least, the way Michael thought about Jeremy was wrong. 

 

_ I’m glad you’re finally starting to agree, Michael. _

 

Michael stared at the floor. He always knew thinking about Jeremy in that way was wrong, wrong on so many levels, it’s just that now he had something to hold him accountable. He should consider himself lucky, blessed even. 

 

_ You should. _

 

Dr. Yin walked into the room and smiled at Michael, interrupting his self-loathing thoughts. “I'm glad you have someone to help you out, Michael.” She nodded towards jake. “Even if that help is a bit… over-enthusiastic. A support system is an integral part of the recovery process.”

 

“Yeah, it's nice.” Michael tried to think of a time when his support system was anyone beyond Jeremy. Nope. Never. It had always been the two of them. It wasn’t that Michael didn’t want to meet new people or make new friends, he just never tried. He never thought he would need to. And now because of his ill-preparedness he had to make up for twelve years of lost social skills. Perfect.

 

“Why don't I take you around the hospital so you can show me how you use the chair, and we can see if you're ready to go home today.”

 

Michael’s heart raced at the thought of being in his own room again. “I can go home today?”

 

“I would need to tell your parents first of course to confirm, but yes, we can have you out as early as noon.”

 

“That sounds awesome.” Dr. Yin placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder and led him out of the waiting room. Another hand - Jeremy’s? No, the squip’s - held firm onto his other shoulder. He wanted to turn around, to call out to Jeremy and have him come along, but the squip kept his head looking forward. There was a metaphor here somewhere, but Michael was too focused on not getting shocked to bother finding it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote half of this at school and did not proofread why am i blowing off my homework for this


	5. The letter c is a controversial topic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its like 11:30 pm i want to sleep but i also want to update daily (nightly) ya feel?

“See what I mean?” Jeremy said, arms gesturing wildly. “Something’s off about him. He’s quiet, which is  _ totally _ not like him, and he’s spacing out which, yeah he did that before but now it’s different it’s like he’s staring  _ at _ something and he flinches all the time for no reason I mean, come  _ on _ , Rich. Doesn’t that scream ‘squip’ to you?”

 

“You know what it screams? Guy who just got out of a week’s worth of surgery and needs time to recover.” Rich said, punctuating his point with a jab at Jeremy’s chest. 

 

“You should’ve seen me after my surgery, man. I was like, not hyper at all. It was weird. I could actually sit still for five minutes.” Jake says.

 

“Yeah, it was kinda creepy dude, not gonna lie.” Rich put a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “It'll be okay. He's going home today, and things will go back to normal. Play video games with him or something. Or whatever you nerds did before all this.”

 

He pulled at the edge of his cardigan. “I don't know if he'll want to.”

 

“Then give him space to think. Even if it's not a Squip, he's probably gonna still be peeved about the party.”

 

“Ugh, I know.” Jeremy let himself slump into a waiting room chair. “That's what I'm scared of.”

 

Rich plopped himself down in the seat next to him. “I give it a week before he's back to normal and you're best buds again.”

 

“Yeah, you're probably right.” Maybe Rich was right. Maybe he was just being paranoid and needed to calm down. But could all the things that Jeremy’s seen really be passed off as just “post-surgery weirdness”? 

 

Suddenly, two women burst into the waiting room. He stood at the sudden burst of commotion. Jeremy instantly recognized the pair as Michael's moms, Paloma and Malaya. They were certainly hard to forget. What an eccentric couple they were. Jeremy loved them almost as much as if they were his family. It was comforting, after his own mom up and left without warning, he had two more to fill in the hole she made. 

 

“Where is he? Where is Michael?” At 4’ 11” Malaya was easily one of the most terrifying women Jeremy had ever met. Her fiery eyes were fueled by a passionate love for her only son. She pulled down on the collar of Jeremy's shirt until he was eye level with her. “Where is my boy?”

 

“Malaya please, calm down.” Paloma was the picture of grace, a beautiful juxtaposition to her wife. Her long straight hair and gentle expression provided a sense of elegance to balance out Malaya’s energetic spirit. 

 

Jeremy smiled. He could tell that had actually gone home and slept. The bags under their eyes weren’t as pronounced as they had been. He can only imagine how he must look. He hasn’t slept more than a few hours in the past week. He’d been surviving off vending machine snacks and instant hot chocolate. He hasn’t showered since, well, he doesn’t exactly know when, but it’s been a while. “Uh, Michael is practicing with his wheelchair. He should be back-”

 

“Mami! Ina!” Michael sped towards them, barely managing to brake before he collided with them. They hugged him as best they could from his wheelchair, then Malaya pinched his ear. 

 

“Don't you ever make us worry like that again, you could've been killed,  _ anak, _ we were so worried.”

 

Michael laughed. “I won’t. Honestly, this ruined parties for me forever.”

 

“Same.” Rich and Jake said in unison. 

 

“You know,” Jeremy wasn’t sure how he wanted to phrase it. “If you’re going home today, m-maybe I could come with and like, help you get settled in and stuff. Or we could just hang out? If y-you want I mean, y-you don’t have to.”

 

Michael’s expression shifted from pure joy to something Jeremy couldn’t quite place. Then again, he was never good with picking out what emotions people were feeling. He had trouble telling when people were mad at him, or the difference between when people were actually being mean or just joking around. This didn’t exactly help during important situations like this. He was overanalyzing, or was he? He was reading too much into things, or was he not reading into things enough? It was a daily battle that he hardly won. 

 

Michael shrugged his moms off of him. “I just wanna be alone right now. Maybe some other time.”

 

Jeremy had to swallow the lump in his throat. He nodded, unable to speak. It crushed him more than he’d like to admit that Michael didn’t want to hang out. He just needed space. Nothing against Jeremy, he just needed some space. Right?

 

Dr. Yin walked up to Pamola and Malaya, “Before you can take him home I'll need you to sign some release papers. It should only take a few moments. Please, follow me.”

 

She took them towards the reception area, leaving the four boys alone in the waiting room. Michael folded his arms and slumped into his chair, focusing his gaze on a piece of gum stuck in the carpet. It seemed as though Michael believed if he could stare at it long enough it would grow legs and throw itself into the trashcan. As cool as that would have been, the gum stayed inanimate. Normally Jeremy knew just what to do when he was in this kind of mood. It was a careful balance of video games and fruit snacks, topped off with a little bit of weed, depending on just how shitty Michael was feeling. Now it seemed that no matter what Jeremy did he wouldn’t be of any help. Maybe it wasn’t Jeremy’s problem to solve. 

 

“Come on, Michael.” Rich put an arm around his shoulder. “Get excited, you're going home!”

 

“Yeah, I'm excited, just- just tired. Tell my moms I'll be waiting by the car.” Michael turned his chair around and left them alone once again. 

 

Everything in Jeremy’s body screamed stop him, follow him, do anything but stand there and hyperventilate. But he couldn’t. Michael didn’t want him right now. He had to let him go. Something wasn’t right, everything felt so bad, but he didn’t have the tools to do anything but watch and hope he was wrong, like he was with most things. God he hoped he was wrong.  

 

He can hardly hear Rich trying to comfort him. “Don't freak out, dude. Just give him space.” His words did nothing to quell the uneasy feeling in Jeremy's stomach. 

 

~

 

It killed Jeremy that he had to go to school the next day. He was falling behind on homework. His mind drifted during his classes. The empty seat next to him in calculus mocked him. He could still see the faint sketches on Michael's desk from when he’d been too lazy to grab a piece of paper. There were tiny hearts and triforces scattered around. Jeremy lightly traced them with his finger, careful not to make them disappear any more than they have. 

 

He stared at the clock. Its hand moved like a herd of turtles through thick molasses. Agonizingly slow. Tick. Tock. At one point, he must’ve imagined it, but he swore he saw the hand just stop altogether. He practically leaped out of seat when the bell finally rang. Out the door, through the hall, down the stairs, dodging kids and backpacks and teachers as he made a beeline for the door. He was almost to the edge of the sidewalk when a car pulled up in front of him. The window rolled down to reveal Christine waving to him, a giant grin plastered on her face. Rich in the driver’s seat slammed against the horn twice. “Get in loser, we’re going shopping!”

 

Jeremy couldn’t stop the smile that made its way to his face. He opened the door to the back and watched Jake move his crutches to make more room for him to sit. He hardly had his hand on the seat belt before Rich peeled out of the parking lot. “So, what’s the occasion?”

 

“A few things.” Rich made a harsh turn around the corner, Jeremy’s hand tightened on the edge of his seat. “We’re celebrating Jake getting out of his wheelchair, and we’re gonna try to get you to stop worrying about your boyfriend.” 

 

Christine elbowed him hard in the ribs when she saw how much Jeremy blushed. “We just want to take your mind off things. Just a fun trip to the mall.”

 

Jake leaned over, “Dude. Have you ever been to Sbarro’s?”

 

Christine laughed. “What is it with you and that place?”

 

“Do not mock a national treasure Christine. We’re getting the best pizza in town, fresh and hot.” 

 

Their plan was working, for the most part. He wasn’t focusing on worrying about Michael anymore. He was thinking about how much fun it would be if he were here too. Him and Jake would get into an argument about pizza toppings. Michael was so passionate about pineapple for reasons that alluded Jeremy. Rich would show him which cashier at GameStop would give him the best deals. Michael and Christine would share all their stories about how awkward Jeremy was around them. It crossed his mind that he never told Michael how their first date went down. He never told him about “The Fettucine Fiasco.” That would have to be a story for another time.  

 

He was so deep in thought that he didn’t realize they were already at the mall. Rich lept out of the car to help out Jake, giving him something to lean on while he grabbed his crutches. Jeremy stared at the huge building in front of them. He hadn’t been to the mall since he bought the squip. No, don’t think about that. Now was the time for relaxing and hanging out. No squips. No… no Michael. 

 

“Hey guys!” He looked up and saw Brooke waving wildly, Chloe and Jenna behind her. Brooke looked like she was the only one who wanted to be there. Chloe’s ever present scowl was prominent, and Jenna’s eyes were glued to her phone. “So, where to first?”

 

The group made their way around the entire mall. First they stopped at Claire’s, where they each got to pick out something cute for themselves. You were never too old to shop there. Jeremy found a pair of pokemon earrings he thought Michael would like, and even a little toy dolphin for himself. Jake and Rich got matching temporary tattoos, and the girls each grabbed numerous things of jewelry. 

 

“Look, Jer, it’s a little cat!” Brooke shoved a necklace in his face.

 

“Heh, yeah I can see.”

 

“With a tail! Is that not the cutest!?”

 

“It sure is.”

 

Next stop, the food court. Even though they’ve only been to one store, they were starving. Jake, as predicted, got his Sbarro’s - a few slices of supreme pizza that he shared with Rich. Jeremy decided to change things up a bit. It was a special occasion after all. He ordered a panini from some fancy no name sandwich shop and took his seat back at the table. While he was gone they had started up a very heated debate on the letter c. 

 

“It serves no purpose!” Jenna smacked her hands on the table. “It makes a k or an s sound, why not just use those letters?”

 

“Because, it’s- it’s- oh God you’re right.” Christine put her head in her hands. “My name could be spelled with a K and it wouldn't make a difference.”

 

Jeremy laughed harder than he had in a month. He wanted to participate but he couldn’t speak over his aching lungs and shaking shoulders. Tears slipped their way down his cheeks. It wasn’t even that funny, he realized, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t breathe. He just, kept laughing. 

 

“Guys, we broke Jerry.” Chloe pointed a french fry at him.

 

“No,” Jake shook his head. “We fixed him.”

 

Jeremy calmed himself down and wiped his eyes on his cardigan. His chest hurt, but in a good way. A comfortable silence fell upon the group as they all enjoyed this moment, soaking up all it had to offer.

 

Rich broke the silence. “Ch. We need to the letter c to make the ch sound.” And the table broke into argument once again.

~

It’s been 6 days, 3 hours, and approximately 47 minutes since Jeremy had seen Michael. Not that he was counting. They’d hardly spoken since he left them at hospital, only through brief texts consisting of nothing more than basic “how are you’s” and the like. Jeremy was always first to write, and the last to respond. Michael would always shut down any attempt at a conversation with “I'm tired,” or a vague “I gotta go.” More than once Jeremy tried going over to his house, but one of his moms would always answer the door and insist that Michael didn't want to see anyone right now.

 

Jeremy figured he deserved this. After all, this was exactly what he did to Michael a month ago. He'd abandoned him, went so far as to willingly block him from his vision entirely. The guilt picked away at him like he picked away the threads on the sleeves of his cardigan. They went up to his wrists, it was hard to believe that the sleeves were once too long.  _ I deserve this. _ Jeremy repeated it over and over again in his head. Eventually the voice stopped sounding like his own. That cold yet familiar voice had slowly been returning to Jeremy. It was always there, a faint whisper of doubt or hatred that tried to ebb away at his psyche. Most of the time he was able to push it down, deep deep down where he didn’t have to deal with it. He didn’t want to deal with it. Everything was fine, it’s all good, nothing wrong here, move along. Nothing was good. Not now. Not when he was lying on his floor, clutching at old photos and memories.  _ You deserve this.  _ Jeremy scooted himself underneath his bed in a stupid attempt to hide from his own thoughts. It was a habit he kept from childhood. Whenever he was hiding from something, be it Michael during a game of hide-and-seek, or his mother’s drunken escapades, it was always here. His tears began to mix with the dust bunnies, making a dirty puddle of grime. 

 

Suddenly his phone rang from on his desk. Jeremy bashed his head against his bed in his rush to answer it. He rubbed it, feeling for a bump as he picked up his phone. A beautifully familiar face filled up the screen

 

It's Michael. Oh God it's Michael! 

 

“H-hello?” Jeremy wiped his tears on his sweater and hoped he don't sound too shaky. 

 

“Hey Jer, what's up?” His voice was music to his ears. Every other voice in his head was pushed out and replaced by Michael’s careful words. 

 

“Oh y-you know, not much, just kinda, uh, doing- doing homework. There's a lot.” Jeremy lied. 

 

He laughed and Jeremy's heart soared. “Yeah I know what you mean. I have a month's worth of work to make up. None of my teachers care that I've literally been broken for the past month.”

 

“Yeah, y’know, if you need help I can- c-can come over and-” Jeremy regretted his words as they stumbled out of his mouth, worried that he'd overstepped some unspoken boundary. 

 

He paused, too long for Jeremy’s liking. He listened closely. He could hear Michael breathing. Was it shaky or was that just the bad connection? It must just be the connection, that would explain the sudden loud static. “Sounds good. Can you be over now?”

 

Holy shit. This wasn’t happening. Jeremy had to be dreaming, right? He scrambled to grab his bag and jacket. “Y-yeah, I'm on my way.” Breathe. Just breathe. And for the love of all things good don’t fuck this up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chanting* i hate calculus, i hate calculus, i hate calculus
> 
> i added the mall scene last minute cause this chapter was hella depressing


	6. Two bros, chillin on bean bags, five feet apart cause Michael doesnt wanna die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for breaking my updating streak, trust me, im disappointed in myself too
> 
> hope you all had a rad turkey day

Michael hung up the phone with trembling fingers and let it fall out his hand onto his red plaid comforter. He actually did it. He called up Jeremy like he’d wanted to do since he was let out of the hospital. This is what he wanted, but he felt sick to his stomach.

 

He looked at his Squip, perched next to him on his bed. It had been a new constant in his life that took some getting used to. It was always there, always watching. When it wasn’t watching, it was critiquing, judging, making Michael change everything that he thought he loved about himself. It made him replace his hoodie he always wore with a jean jacket that used to sit in the back of his closet collecting dust. _That hoodie is tacky and disgusting. It’s time for a fresh start._ It made him stop listening to his nineties playlist, and instead make a new pop one filled with songs he could hardly understand. _In order to form a bond with cool people. You need to do what they do, listen to what they listen to._

 

He should consider himself lucky that it was giving him this opportunity to be with Jeremy. This was only on one condition, he had to not think about him _in that way_. Not hard at all. Nope. Not hard.

 

“I don't know if I can do this,” he admitted.

 

_This is what our training has been working towards, Michael. You've been doing great so far, now it's time to practice on the real thing. According to my calculations he should be here…_

 

A door slammed upstairs.

 

_Now._

 

“Already? What the hell did he do run here?” Michael began to panic. His throat was tight. He couldn’t breathe right, couldn’t think right. What if he couldn’t control his feelings? What if he made a fool of himself in front of Jeremy? What if-

 

_Be chill, Michael. I'll be here to correct you if you slip up._

 

Jeremy came tumbling down the stairs, it was a miracle he didn’t slip and- oh there he goes. He missed the last step and slid down the stairs, crushing his backpack as he fell. Michael laughed as he stood up quickly, brushing himself off and trying to act like nothing happened.  

 

“Hey man,” Jeremy sat on the edge of his bed, tossing his bag aside. He seemed more anxious than normal, knee bouncing a mile a minute. “H-how ya feelin?”

 

“I've been better. Can we start with calc? I kinda missed all the lectures so nothing makes sense.” Michael didn't want to chit-chat. Little room to talk meant little room for error. Little error meant no more painful pricks at the back of his neck. Speaking of painful pricks, his squip was standing on the other side of the room. It gave him a thumbs up when he looked over. If it wasn’t weird to flip off what appeared like nothing to Jeremy, he would have.

 

“Oh uh, yeah.” He digs through his backpack before pulling out a blue notebook. He shifted himself up on the bed so he was next to Michael, leaning against the pikachu plushie he had gotten him for his ninth birthday.

 

Michael tried hard to focus on limits and derivatives, but his attention kept wavering. From the calming way Jeremy spoke when he was explaining something, to the way his hair would fall in his face when he was really focused on a problem, to the way his eyebrows knitted together when he got confused. Everytime Michael's focus shifted he felt the jolt of electricity run through his spine.

 

After maybe twenty minutes - it could have easily been an hour with the amount of time Michael spent staring- Jeremy closed the textbook and looked down at the cover, like there was some secret problem hidden in the geometric figure adorning it. He took a deep breath before speaking. “I-I'm glad you're okay. I don't- I don’t know if I would've been able to live with myself if something happened to you, w-worse than it already has I mean, I know that a broken hip is pretty shitty. I can hardly live with myself now knowing- knowing it’s my fault.” He mumbled, picking at the skin by his nails the entire time. Michael wished he would stop that. It was a habit so bad that at one point Michael carried band-aids in his backpack for when he picked too far.  

 

Michael didn't know what to say, he never knew what to say. The Squip provided no clues. It just stood in the corner of the room, eyed glowing ominously. He stayed silent.

 

“I guess I just- I just want things to go back to normal. The way they were before. But I mean I get that if you don't want to that's okay I was really shitty to you so I understand-”

 

Michael cut his rambling short. “Dude, I get it. It's okay, I just want things to be normal too.”

 

Only then did Jeremy look at him. His eyes were still sad. No, sad wasn’t the right word. Worried? Distressed? Hungry? No that was dumb. Jeremy was just concerned for his broken friend. He blamed himself for what happened and, knowing Jeremy, he would never ever forgive himself for it. Hell, he still hadn’t forgiven himself for losing Michael’s copy of SoulSilver in third grade.

 

They sat there in silence for a moment, and Michael realized how much he missed this. For a moment it was as if they were transported back in time before this damn squip nonsense. When it was just them. Just him and Jeremy hanging out in his basement together. Two bros bein’ dudes. Two dudes bein’ bros.

 

Then Jeremy got weird. Well, he was always weird, but right now was a specific brand of weird saved for when Jeremy was trying to say something he didn’t know how to. It was fidgety and bright red and flailing hands and chewing on his lip. Michael was familiar to this kind of weird. It always appeared when he was trying to say something important, like when he was trying to tell Christine how he felt. Writing it out helped, hence the letters he tried writing to her. Michael was about to hand Jeremy the notebook, but he shook his head.

 

“C-can I show you something?” Jeremy sounded almost out of breath, as if all the flailing and flustering had taken the wind out of him, which it probably had.

 

Michael nodded. He expected Jeremy to pull something out of his backpack. He was taken aback when he started taking off his shirt. Michael's heart and mind started racing. Oh, where could this situation lead? The possibilities… It took a particularly more painful shock to calm him down.

 

Michael feels like shit when he realized how serious the thing Jeremy wanted to show him was. He turned towards the door, giving Michael a full view of his back. Scars. Electrocution scars. They ran like lightning from the bottom of his spine up to his neck. Some trailed lower, down his hips and toward his front. Michael rubbed his own neck, feeling for scars. His fingers brushed against raised lines, barely there, nothing too prominent. Yet. He flipped the collar of his jacket up around his neck.

 

Jeremy’s grip on the edge of the bed was tight. His knuckles were white with effort. “Th-these are from the uh, from the squip.” He spit the name out like it was poison. Like saying it would bring that thing right back into Jeremy’s head. “It would- would shock me every time I did something wrong.”

 

“Wrong how?” Michael wanted to know everything about Jeremy’s squip. Not just for his own gain, but so he could know exactly what that quantum losercomputer did to hurt Jeremy. At this point there was no revenge that could be taken - it was gone now after all - but there would be hell to pay if it there was.

 

“Slouching, stuttering, you name it. Anything a cool person wouldn't do. There was a lot of stuff I did that a cool person wouldn’t.” Jeremy turned around and put his shirt back on. His breath was shaky as he leaned back against the pillows. He shrugged dismissively. “I dunno, I felt like I needed to show you that. Get it off my chest.” He looked into the other’s eyes, almost like he was searching for something. Michael couldn’t figure out what.

 

“Yeah, uh, thanks for sharing. That sucks.” Poetic. But it was hard to show consolation without giving away that fact that Michael was all too familiar with the squip’s patented shock therapy. “So, it's gone though, right?”

 

_Watch yourself. I can make him leave now if you start pushing._

 

“Yeah.” He didn't sound confident. That did wonders to calm the worry in Michael’s gut.

 

An awkward silence hung in the air. This never would have happened between them before. Any silence was always comfortable and peaceful. But this- now this was just torture. Michael broke it. “Can we get back to math now?”

 

Hours went by. Half the time was spent actually studying, and the other half was devoted to attempts at some good old light-hearted banter. Michael asked about the stuff he'd missed at school (Dustin almost set the chemistry room on fire, there was a fire alarm and everything). Jeremy asked about his physical therapy (the nurse was totally checking him out, no dude, for reals, stop laughing you ass!). After awhile it seemed like everything did indeed go back to normal.

 

A knock at the door startled the both of them. “Michael!” Mom called down. “The nurse is here!”

 

“Oh, uh, I can l-leave if you want.” Jeremy started packing his bag.

 

_Give him an option. If he stays, then you're one step closer to rekindling your friendship and therefore, one step closer to being cool. If he leaves, then we have a lot more work to do._

 

His words sounded so ominous. They sent chills down Michael’s spine. “You don't have to go now, I mean, unless you want to?”

 

Jeremy took way too long to answer. It was like he was making a list of every possible pro and con in his head. Wait, that’s exactly what was happening. That’s how Jeremy always made decisions. He just, never seemed to take so long when it came to deciding on hanging out with him. The answer was always obvious. Apparently not now. The tension crushed him as each second passed. “I'll stay.” He set his bag down and leaned back against the bed.

 

His basement door opened and the nurse began walking down. She held a pair of crutches in her hand. “Hello, Michael.” She said with a fake smile. “Who's this?”

 

“My friend, Jeremy. We were just studying.” Normally when a high school boy says he and a friend were studying alone in their bedroom, that’s automatic code for we were having a hardcore makeout session. Nope. This high school boy was telling the truth. Sadly. _PZZZT_

 

“Well I'm glad to see you're starting to talk to people now. Are you ready to go back to school on Monday?”

 

“Wait, what?” Oops. Jeremy glared at Michael. “Why didn't you tell me you were going back already?”

 

Because he couldn’t even talk to Jeremy without being electrocuted. “It never came up.” Michael scooted towards the edge of the bed and grabbed the crutches. The nurse tried to help him, but he didn't need it. He'd gotten a hang of the crutches the first time he tried, but the she insisted on more visits. Something about legal obligations or whatever. He didn’t want to look at Jeremy. He didn’t want to see the disappointment he knew would be plastered all over his face. So instead he put all his focus into hobbling around the room, moving in a practiced path that he’d travelled many a time before. The nurse watched him carefully, taking mental notes. No, she was probably just thinking about whether or not she got paid enough for this.  

 

“Looks like I can take your wheelchair back today.” Again with the fake smiling. It must get tiring after awhile. “Keep practicing, the best way to recover is to keep using your leg little bits at a time. You will still need help on stairs though. If you do need to go up, try and only use your left leg. Putting too much rotation and weight in the hip could cause another fracture.”

 

Michael nodded. He’d heard this all before.

 

“Okay, well then, I'll be out of your hair.” She grabbed Michael's wheelchair and folded it up with more ease than when his mom tried to. It took her twenty minutes before she gave up and shoved it into the back seat of the car. “Good luck on Monday. I'll be stopping by tomorrow to remove your cast.”  

 

Michael leaned his crutches against the wall and slid back onto the bed. He didn’t want to look at Jeremy. He focused on his cast. It still had the pacman stickers on it. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't bummed that they would be gone tomorrow. At least he still has the stickers that Jeremy claimed were on his locker. Jeremy. He felt bad about not telling Jeremy he was going back to school, but every time he tried, every time he wrote the text or picked up the phone, he couldn't contain his excitement, couldn't contain his feelings. What the hell was wrong with him?

 

_Apologize._

 

“I'm sorry for not telling you, Jer. I just- I wasn't in a good state of mind at the time.” Sort of the truth.

 

“N-no it's fine, I get it.”

 

It wasn't fine. None of this was fine. It will never be fine unless Michael can get his shit together. But Michael didn’t want to think about that right now. Right now he has to focus on the fact that Mr. Waldt was making him take the chem test on Monday, even after a strongly worded email from Malaya. “So, should we do chemistry next?”

 

They fell back into a study-driven lull. It was quiet. Jeremy spoke to him like he was just some random kid being tutored. It was so- not cool. Give Michael a break it’s late and words are hard. They worked in that very not cool fashion until Michael had finally finished all of his assignments. They were both worn down. Their brains were broken from formulas and essays and every other subject Michael had got caught up on. He regretted packing his schedule full of APs now. He should’ve listened when his counselor said the work load would be a lot.

 

Jeremy grabbed his phone. His eyes widened when he saw that it was almost midnight. “Oh damn, I-I should get going, it's pretty late.”

 

_No_

 

 _“_ No. Why don't you just stay the night? Like old times, bro.” What was Michael saying? How couldn't spend the whole night with Jeremy without- without _feeling things_? He wasn't ready.

 

 _You're ready._ The squip appeared next to Jeremy, mocking Michael with their similarities. It wrapped an arm around the real Jeremy's shoulders. _Just picture him as me. It won't be that hard. You hate me._ You got that right you dick.

 

“Oh yeah, uh, are you still cool with me borrowing your pjs? I didn’t exactly bring anything.” It killed Michael to see Jeremy so apprehensive about something that once second nature to them. They would have impromptu sleepovers all the time. So much so that there was an actual drawer of each other’s things at the other’s house.

 

“Mi casa es tu casa, man. Knock yourself out.” Michael grabbed himself a pair of pacman pants and a plain red tshirt. Jeremy grabbed his favorite pair of pj’s: plaid pants and a legend of Zelda shirt. The familiarity made Michael feel warm. After almost a month of being alone, it was nice to have him here, almost like before, but not quite. Maybe they’ll get there again someday, if Michael can get himself under control.

 

“Video games?” Michael suggested.

 

 _Good, reclaim the friendship. You're doing wonderful._ He didn't feel wonderful. He felt like a liar, even though he’s been lying about this for almost 6 years. He’d had practice masking his emotions on the outside, but now he had to get rid of them on the inside. A whole new ballgame.

 

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Jeremy grabbed his controller (he designated it as his own after he put stickers all over it in 4th grade) and sat down on his beanbag (again, designated his own by stickers). Jeremy loved stickers. They covered everything he loved. When Michael loved something he would take pictures of it, so that he would always have it with him. There had to be hundreds of photos of Jeremy saved on his phone.

 

Michael remembered the day he fell for him. Was being shocked worth reliving the memory? Yes, yes it was was.

 

5th grade. The Halloween Dance. They’d dressed up together, Michael as pikachu and Jeremy as Ash. They walked in together. They opened the doors and all they could see was people, and all they could hear was the loud music blaring and people shouting, and the lights were flashing so fast and so bright and It was too much for Jeremy, his hands were shaking and he couldn't breathe. He couldn’t move. So Michael had led him out behind the school to calm down. It was his favorite spot, underneath an old tree that all the sixth graders carved swear words on. Jeremy clung onto Michael like he would die if he let go. When they sat down he began to sob into into Michael's shoulder.

 

“I-I’m s-such a l-loser. C-crying at a p-party like a b-b-baby.” Jeremy wouldn’t have made much sense to some random stranger, but Michael was able to pick out a sentence in between the excessive stutter and the tears and the hyperventilating.

 

“Hey, you're not a loser or a baby.” Michael rubbed his shoulder, the way his mom would do for him whenever he was upset.

 

Jeremy sniffled. “Y-you're my favorite person, you know that?” He reached over and grabbed Michael's hand. “Just you and-and just us, forever and ever and ever.”

 

And that was when Michael's heart swelled. That was when the butterflies started and the _holy shit I’m feeling thiiiiings_ started. He loved the sound of him and Jeremy together. He loved the feeling of his hand in his. And he wanted to be there for Jeremy, whenever he felt awful like this, cause he wanted to help him through it.  

 

Michael didn’t remember going to the bathroom, but he must’ve cause here he was now, convulsing on the floor, face pressed into a towel trying not to scream.

 

_You couldn’t help yourself could you?_

 

“I’m sorry, ’m sorry, won't do it again” Michael sobbed into his towel.

 

There was a knock at the door. Michael was silenced. “A-are you okay? Michael?’

 

_Lie. Say it was a side effect from pain meds. I can’t believe I have to clean up after your messes like this. You're lucky Jeremy is the only path to popularity otherwise you wouldn’t be here with him at all._

 

As hard as Michael tried, and he really really did, he just couldn't tell the truth. He wanted so badly to pour his heart out to Jeremy and confess what he’d done and how wrong he’d been and how sorry he was, but he couldn’t. With a quick buzz, control over his own lips was taken. “I'm fine dude, it's just the meds. No biggie. Give me a minute”

 

“M-michael,” it sounded like Jeremy was going to say something, oh God how he wanted Jeremy to say something. Say that he knew what was going on and that he was gonna get help. No, no no. None of that. He heard Jeremy sigh. “Do you need water or anything?”

 

Soul-crushing disappointment. “Sure.”

 

Only when he heard Jeremy leave did the Squip give him back control. It sat on the edge of the tub and nodded toward his crutches. _Better get back out there. I'm disappointed in you, Michael. I thought you were stronger than this. I guess there's a lot more work that needs to be done._

 

He crawled over to his crutches and hoisted himself up with much difficulty. He was fuming. So angry he could throw something, or punch something, or break something. He couldn’t really do that now, his moms would be mad if he broke the tile again, so instead he used his words as weapons. “No. I don't care anymore. Fuck you, fuck your training, fuck being cool or chill or whatever. I'm done.”

 

It looked disappointed but not surprised. _I anticipated this sort of reaction Michael. My goal, my primary function is to make you be more popular, and I will do so by any means necessary. If this means stripping you of everything about yourself than so be it. If it mean resorting to more, shall I say, drastic measures, than I am more than prepared to do so. We can either do this with your participation, or not. If you want to keep any part of what humans call “free will” at all then I suggest you choose the former._ It stuck out it's hand _Now, do we have a deal?_

 

He eyed the hand that belonged to the Squip. If he wanted to he could pretend it was Jeremy's. That he was extending a hand of friendship or trying to make up some new handshake or some adorable shit that he was always doing. But no. This was a projection of the dry and knobby hand with pockmarks by the fingernails he'd come to know and love. He took the hand in his own and shook it once. Even though he knew it couldn't feel pain, he made sure to grip it as tightly as he could.

 

“Deal.”

 

That smirk was so out of place on Jeremy's face.

 

Another knock at the door indicated Jeremy’s return. “I-I got your water, for when you're ready to come out. H-how are you feeling?”

 

Michael made one last glare at his Squip, then opened the door to reveal Jeremy's concerned face. He held a glass of water in his hand. It was trembling.

 

“Better,” he took the glass from the other’s hand before it fell to the floor. “Thanks man.”

 

“So, d-did you wanna keep playing video games? or…” he trailed off, picking at nails. He was so nervous. Why is everything wrong? Why did he have to make Jeremy worry? Why did have to take that fucking pill?

 

Michael shook his head. “Nah, I got a killer headache. Let's just, I dunno, relax or something. What time is it?”

 

Jeremy looked over at the alarm clock. “Two o’ six”

 

Fuck the squip. If Michael was going to be forced to be cool, then he better learn to enjoy the little opportunities like this. He’d better enjoy his time with Jeremy now, cause who knows if he’ll like the person Michael was going to become, once he lost all of himself. He knew he would hate himself for sure. More than he ever did before. “Well, it’s pointless to sleep now.” Michael found a smile deep inside and brought it to his face, then tried to make it a permanent part of him. “Let’s build a blanket fort or something. Think we can make one better than that one freshman year?”

 

Jeremy grinned that beautiful goofy grin. Genuine and brilliant. Michael tried to calm himself down before his heart swam with butterflies. He must have succeeded cause he wasn't shocked. Point for Michael. “I dunno man, that thing had lava lamps and everything. We’re gonna have to bring out the big guns.”

 

For the first time since Halloween, lights shone in Michael’s eyes. “I have an idea.”

 

Two hours, three bottles of soda, and a raid of every soft object in the house later, their masterpiece was complete. Michael leaned on his crutches and admired their handiwork. It was two stories, bed and floor. The tv was placed just inside the blankets. It was playing the old spiderman cartoon, per Jeremy’s request. The pièce de résistance was the christmas lights they stole from the basement. Bright colored bulbs wrapped their way round the bed posts and crossed over the roof. They illuminated the fort in a brilliant sea of color. Carefully, Michael ducked inside, tossed out his crutches, and fell against the bed. The impact only hurt for a second, pain ebbing away when he looked at Jeremy. Reds, blues, yellows, and greens danced across his face. But he didn’t look gorgeous. No. He didn’t look beautiful as he stuffed his face with swedish fish and stared at the tv. And Michael was not thinking about kissing him right there. No, he most certainly was not doing that.

 

_Saying you’re not doing something is different from actually not doing it, but I acknowledge your attempt. Do better._

 

Jeremy leaned against Michael’s legs and set the bag of gummies down. He looked exhausted, but content. The kind of tired you get after staying up all night building the best blanket fort of all time.

 

“So,” Michael said softly, “better than freshman year?”

 

Jeremy’s eyes fluttered closed. “So much better.” And with that he was asleep. Chest softly rising and falling, rising and falling. Michael would be lying if he said he wasn’t ready to pass out too, but he wanted to soak up this moment as much as he could. He focused on the little things. The way the tv made the fort way hotter than it needed to be. The way the floor was covered in snack wrappers and soda bottles. They way Jeremy’s breath brushed against his leg. Michael leaned back carefully, not wanting to overextend his hip, and let out a deep breath. Above him the lights flickered in and out. In and out. It was calming. He breathed along with the lights. In and out. Michael fell asleep, and his subconscious painted him a beautiful picture. Blues and reds. Jeremy and him. They swirled together, dancing to a song that wasn’t playing, laughing at a joke that wasn’t told. White melted away with each stroke, with each subtle movement they made. At the edge of the canvas was an electric blue, threatening to smudge the wet paint, but Michael wouldn’t let it. He danced and danced and swung the deep blue around and around until it covered every inch. The harsh and bright blue was gone, replaced by the only shade he would ever love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so tired holy fuck
> 
> this chapter turned out way longer than i thought and i honestly love it


	7. The old Michael cant come to the phone right now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why? 
> 
>  
> 
> well jeremy's still trying to figure that out

Jeremy woke up before Michael did. The tv was still on, and the lights were still twinkling. He checked his phone and saw that it was ten. Not bad. Usually when they had sleepovers they wouldn’t wake up until well after noon. He removed himself from Michael’s legs and crawled out of the fort. It truly was better than freshman year. He pulled on his cardigan - Michael’s room was freezing this morning - and made his way upstairs. He heard the soft voice of Paloma in the kitchen talking to her wife. When he turned the corner he saw that she was pouring a bowl of fruity pebbles. She smiled sweetly when she saw him. 

 

“Good morning, Jeremiah. I have breakfast.” She set the bowl on the table, inviting Jeremy to sit down. He gladly took the offer. He loved how well Michael's mom knew him. She knew him so well that she had his favorite cereal on stock 24/7. 

 

“Thank you.”

 

She hummed in acknowledgement and busied herself with pouring another bowl of cereal. “Is Michael still asleep?”

 

He took a bite of the pebbles. Crunchy. “Yeah. We were up pretty late last night.”

 

Malaya grunted. “I heard. You were giggling so much. You stole all the pillows. 

 

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know we were being so loud.” Jeremy busied himself with his cereal. He pushed the little pieces around, watching as they turned the milk into a rainbow sort of color. 

 

Paloma sat down next to him. “What is bothering you?”

 

He shrugged. “I dunno, it’s just- has Michael been acting different lately?”

 

Paloma nodded solemnly. “He is quieter. He does not eat. He does not talk about you as much as he used to.”

 

“Wait, what? M-michael talked about me?” Jeremy was surprised, although he shouldn’t be, when he thinks about it. Michael was his only friend. Of course he talked about him. There’s nothing special about talking to your parents about your friend. 

 

Malaya laughed. “We couldn't get him to shut up about you. Everyday, ‘Jeremy does this’ and ‘Jeremy does that’ and ‘Jeremy is so great’. And now, nothing. He says nothing. What did you do? Why is he not talking?”

 

Jeremy chewed on his lip. It was his fault after all. He knew it. And now they will to. And they’ll hate him for ruining their son. “I-I, uh, I acted like a jerk towards him, a-and I-I ignored him and I  and I- and I c-called him a- a- a l- _ loser _ and now he hates me.” Jeremy wanted to cry, but he knew the second he did Paloma would be all over him. As appealing as that sounded, he didn’t need that right now.

 

Malaya nodded as he sputtered out his story. “Okay. What you did was shitty-”

 

Paloma smacked her arm. “ _ Idioma!” _

 

“But he could never possibly hate you. Ever.”

 

“R-really?”

 

Malaya laughed. “Have you met the boy? You could try to kill him and he'd still be at your feet.”

 

Paloma placed a hand on his lovingly. “He has always been there for you, thick and thin, no questions asked. Something is wrong. Now it is your turn to be there for him.”

 

She was right. When Jeremy thought back to all the time he’d known Michael, it had always been him. Whenever he had a panic attack, Michael was there. Whenever he had to go to the nurse’s for a breakdown, Michael was there. When his mom left, Michael was there. Jeremy was always there when Michael needed him too, he was his best friend of course he was, but the way Michael cared about him - it was different. It was like Jeremy was the only thing he cared about. How could Jeremy he compete with twelve years of Michael’s unconditional support? “W-what am I supposed to do?”

 

“Hell if I know,” Malaya stood up and grabbed the bowl of cereal Paloma poured. Cocoa pebbles, Michael’s favorite. “Now go bring that idiot some breakfast and tell him to stop acting weird.” 

 

Jeremy laughed. “I don't think it works like that”

 

“Whatever.” She shoved the bowl into his hands and shooed him downstairs. 

 

When he reached the bottom of the steps he saw Michael sitting on his bed, still surrounded by the shining lights inside the fort. He was rubbing his cast absentmindedly, staring at the floor. His teeth were clenched. He was shaking. Jeremy walked over to him, slowly. He stepped around candy wrappers and soda bottles, not wanting to startle him. He kinda failed in that mission when he tapped Michael on the shoulder. He jumped so high that he hit the roof of the fort, threatening to knock the whole thing down. It didn’t though, thankfully. 

 

“Woah, man. It’s okay, it’s just me. I, uh, got some cereal for you.”

 

He grabbed the bowl and held it close. “Mm, thanks. Did you eat?”

 

“Yeah, your moms fed me. They're pretty great.” Jeremy sat himself on the bed next to Michael. He took a mental note of they way he flinched ever so slightly. 

 

“Tell me about it. I'm lucky to have them.” He stirred his cereal around, but didn’t take a bite. “I'm lucky to have a lot of things.” 

 

Jeremy’s knee bounced up and down as he tried to think of what to say next. He wanted to phrase what he said carefully, create an elegant mix of support and concern, but his mouth was faster than his brain, and he began to babble incoherently. “Y’know you can tell me anything right? Like I know you've always been there for me no matter how shitty I've been and you’ve always been like the best friend anyone could possibly ask for and I don’t deserve you like at all cause you’re just so amazing and you’re always there for me but I just want you to know that I'm always here to return the favor cause I don’t know if I really ever made that clear enough, like I will always be here from now on I promise and you don’t have to believe cause in all honesty I’m finding it hard to believe me and- ”

 

Michael cut off his rant with a steady hand on his shoulder. “Of course I know that Jer. I know you’ll always be there. What happened, with the- the thing, it’s over now. A the time you were just thinking with your dick instead of your head.”

 

Jeremy choked, “O-oh my God, Michael!”

 

His laugh was rich like honey. “Oh, like I’m wrong. Anyway, all of that is behind us, and I know you’d rather die than do it again. And if you really want to be there for, well, there is something you can help me with.”

 

“Y-yeah?” Jeremy held his breath. Was he finally going to tell him what was wrong? Why was he taking so long to answer? Why can’t Jeremy breathe? Oh, it’s cause he’s not breathing. In and out. There we go. 

 

Michael shook his head. “I just- I need help getting stuff ready for tomorrow. It's kinda hard for me to, y’know, move and stuff.”

 

Well, that was anticlimactic, but Jeremy was determined to help anyway. He stood up and embarked on an epic scavenger hunt for Michael’s books. It was made rather difficult thanks to the fact that they just kinda threw everything once they were done with it. The giant fort didn’t help either. Eventually he managed to shove everything Michael needed into his backpack and placed it by the stairs. 

 

“Alright, all packed. What’s next? You need me to grab you clothes for tomorrow?” Michael nodded, and Jeremy headed over to the closet. “Lucky for you, I’ve memorized your entire wardrobe at this point. I’ll be your Tim Gunn, your personal fashion guru.” He grabbed one of Michael’s favorite shirts, a black tee with three pixelated hearts on it. “How’s this one?”

 

“No.”

 

Jeremy was taken aback. Michael wore this shirt like, everyday. “W-what? But it’s your- okay, whatever. Which one do you want then?”

 

Michael’s eyes scanned his closet. No, really. It looked like he was taking inventory of everything and trying to calculate each shirt’s thread count or something. Jeremy added this to his mental list. 

 

Michael completed his- his scan, and pointed to the closet. “That one. The plain white one” 

 

“Alright.” He took it off the hanger and tossed it on the bed. “And, jeans?”

 

He shook his head. “No, black skinny pants. They’re at the bottom of my closet.”

 

Jeremy blinked in disbelief. What the hell was happening? “I- I got those for you as a gag gift. You said you'd rather die than wear them.”

 

He shrugged and stared blankly at him. “A guy’s gotta grow up sometime Jer.”

 

Grow up? Grow up!? This was more than some sudden crisis. Michael  _ hated _ change. He hated it so much he refused to throw out his backpack he had from Kindergarten even though it was literally falling apart. This whole change of style was going against everything the Michael he knew and loved stood for. “Whatever, man. You wanna go ahead and just become some hipster, I won’t judge. When you come to your senses, your clothes will still be right here. So, now I guess all that's left is your hoodie.”

 

“Nah, I’m gonna-” Michael started coughing, like he was choking on his own words. No, calm down Jeremy, you’re being overdramatic. “I’m gonna toss that old thing.”

 

“WHAT! Okay, the dumb skinny pants I can handle, but this! No, that hoodie is like, it’s  _ you _ . It's everything you are, it's practically a part of your personality at this point. I refuse to see a national treasure like this hoodie, this amalgamation of your traits and qualities, be pushed aside.” Jeremy was either irrationally angry or just the right amount of angry. He was still trying to figure that out. 

 

Michael threw up his hands. “Jesus, you like the damn thing so much you take it.”

 

“You know what? I will.” He snatched up the hoodie and slid it over his head. It was way bigger on him than Jeremy imagined it would be. Yes, he’d imagined this before. He is but a simple man, with simple desires. Of those desires the current most important was glaring Michael down and trying to telepathically force him to make eye contact. A feudal quest, as Michael continued to glare down at his cast. 

 

Shouting from upstairs broke Jeremy’s concentration. “Jeremiah, your father is here!”

 

He didn’t want to leave. Not now. Not when something was  _ obviously  _ wrong with Michael. Even if it was just his fashion sense. But he knew his dad was never the patient type. “Ugh, I gotta go Michael. See you tomorrow? Do you wanna ride to school instead of taking the bus? I’m sure my dad won't mind-”

 

“My mom won't mind either.” 

 

Goddammit Michael. Why was he making it so hard to help him? Jeremy’s trying his best. He really is. But maybe his best, just isn’t good enough. Maybe, maybe he’s not good enough.

 

“Jeremy! Your father will not stop honking!” 

 

“I’m coming!” He packed his bag quickly, then gave one last farewell to his friend. “Later, Michael.” Jeremy hesitated at the stairs, waiting for him to say something, anything. But he didn’t. WIth a sigh, he made his way upstairs and into his dad’s car. He didn’t mean to slam the door, but it felt good. 

 

His dad started the car and sped off. “Hey buddy, did you forget about our father-son grocery trip”

 

Oh yeah, that. Oops. “Sorry, It’s just- I’ve had a lot on my mind recently.” Jeremy and his dad were just testing the waters of trying to rebuild their relationship since his mom left. This newfound sense of refurbishing their relationship was spurred by Jeremy, after he acted like a total dick for a month with no explanation. If you asked Jeremy what happened, he would have told the truth. But his dad never really bothered to ask. He just accepted that Jeremy went through some weird rebellious phase spurred by the loss of  his mother and his father’s pants. But now it was over and Mr. Heere had a new motto- “Don’t focus on the past, it steers you away from the future”. And since Jeremy’s outburst had been in the past, Mr. Heere refused to acknowledge it even happened. The future for them was filled with heartfelt attempts at familial bonding. Attempts including but most certainly not limited to weekly trips to the grocery store. 

 

When they reached their supermarket of choice, Jeremy didn't really cooperate. He answered his dad’s questions about which brand of fruit snacks tastes the best or how he thought the bagger was manhandling their eggs, but his mind was elsewhere. His fingers ran along the patches on Michael's sweater. He remembered when he added each one on their. The P1 heart was the first- that was eighth grade. So was the “Rise above racism” one. The two flags were freshman year. The rainbow was last year. This hoodie truly was a picture of everything Michael.

 

They don't get home soon enough. Jeremy ignored his dad’s questions about lunch- how could Jeremy be hungry at a time like this?- and sprinted up the stairs, launching himself into the chair at his desk.

 

Something was wrong. Everything Michael did further confirmed his squip theory. He pulled out a piece of paper from his backpack and stared at the list he had so far. It was kinda hard to read his own frantic, chicken-scratch handwriting, but he’d had years of practice.

 

**Reasons why it's probably a squip**

 

 

****1\. He started screaming when he woke up** **   
**2\. He had a seizure when christine brought out the mtn dew red** ****  
**3. ~~He banned us all from seeing him~~** **couldve been nerves-too many people** ****  
**4. ~~Everything is so awkward between us~~** **that's probs my fault-gotta fix that** ****  
**5\. He keeps flinching - am i just imagining that?** ****  
**6\. He stares at nothing a lot??** **  
**

 

 

And now he added his discoveries from last night and this morning.

 

**7\. More spacing out/flinching/awkwardness aaagh**   
**8\. walked like a** _ **robot** _ **to the bathroom (p quickly w/ a broken hip n crutches)**   
**9\. breakdown in the bathroom - sobbing?**   
**10\. Became a “fashion expert” out of nowhere**   
**11\. Won't look me in the eye**   
**12\. getting rid of his hoodie!!!**

 

The more he looked at his list, the more convinced he was in his theory. It had to be it had to be it had to be. Jeremy debated showing his list to Rich. Of all people he would know, but Rich was pretty adamant that it wasn't a squip. He’d just have to see for himself at school tomorrow. Ugh. Jeremy slumped onto his desk. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough. But, it was still 20 hours away. What to do until then? Video games? No, that reminded him of Michael. Comic books? No, that reminded him of Michael. Lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling? Ding ding ding, we have a winner. Wait, no, dammit. That reminded him of Michael too. On his ceiling were the glow in the dark stars they bought together in second grade. They saved up their money for weeks to buy them. The tape they came with wore off after about a week, so his dad superglued them. They weren’t coming off anytime soon. 

 

What time was it? Jeremy grabbed his phone. 4 o’ clock. He groaned. What to do, what to do, what to do? Movies. That would get his mind off Michael. He flipped open his laptop and started scrolling. It usually took him awhile to pick a  movie, that would kill a lot of time. Sure enough, thirty minutes had gone by before he found something to watch. It was an old movie from when he was a kid. He hardly remembered the plot, but he liked the horses. He always wanted one when he was a kid, so much so that he would check out books on how to take care of them from the library. He fell into a sort of nostalgia fueled daze, it was nice. His mind drifted from the movie and flew towards memories of being in elementary school and how his biggest problem was that he couldn’t tie his shoes, although if Jeremy is being completely honest, he still wasn’t the best at it. He hasn’t tied his converse since the first day he bought them.

 

His reverie was interrupted by his dad knocking on the door. “Hey champ. I got some tacos here if you’re hungry. It’s gettin’ pretty late.”

 

At the mention of tacos Jeremy’s stomach growled. “Yeah, I’ll have some. Thanks dad” 

 

Mr. Heere opened the door and set the plate on the night stand. He seemed to hesitate, not knowing what to say. Jeremy didn’t blame him- he didn’t know either. 

 

“So, uh,” his dad stumbled. “How’s Michael doing?”

 

Jeremy shook his head, as if he could physically shake away his thoughts of him. “I don’t wanna talk about him right now. But, he’s doing, fine? I guess?”

 

“Alright. You don’t wanna talk, that’s fine. I won’t invade your privacy.” That was a first. “Are, are you doing okay?”

 

Jeremy, again, didn’t know what to say. Was he okay? What was okay at this point? The question is too subjective, next. “I’m- better. But, I could also be better?”

 

His dad just nodded. “Yeah, I feel ya sport. Well, I’ll get out of your hair. Have a good night, son.”

 

“Good night, Dad.”

 

Jeremy found himself sleeping in Michael's hoodie. Okay, he didn’t exactly sleep. He laid there for eight hours in Michael's hoodie, holding it around himself like a security blanket. He can’t count the amount of times he thought about doing this. But it was never like this. He always imagined this moment as something domestic and sweet, with Michael right there beside him. He never thought it would be the result of- of- whatever the hell this was. 

 

His alarm rang way too soon. Jeremy shut it off and rolled out of bed. He didn’t bother changing. His jeans were still fine, and Michael’s hoodie, well that was never coming off. He grabbed his bag and made his way downstairs. There was a note on the counter from his dad. It read “Sorry Private. Emergency client meeting, can’t drive you to school, lunch money is on the counter.”

 

Sure enough there was ten bucks next to the note. He put it in his pocket and called Rich to give him a ride. 

 

He got there in less than five minutes. There had to be some speeding laws broken cause Rich lived eight minutes away. Jake was already in the front seat, which meant Jeremy was, as usual nowadays, forced to third wheel the couple in the backseat.

Rich eyed him through the mirror. “Nice hoodie man, you get lucky last night?” Rich smirked, until he saw Jeremy freaking out, lip biting and nervous flailing. “Oh shit man sorry, I just- ugh. How come you’re wearing his hoodie?”

 

Jeremy gave him a detailed rundown of the events of that weekend. He even decided on giving them the list to look over. Jake read out loud to Rich as he drove.

 

“Yeah that’s, damn. You might be right. What the fuck?” Rich shook his head. “Let’s just see how today plays out, okay?”

 

The day played out about as well as Jeremy figured. Michael was the only thing on his mind all day. His schoolwork went neglected once again. It just seemed so trivial to him at the moment. Why should he be trying to balance chemical equations when his best friend could be taken over by a fucking tic tac? After each class he scoured the halls for Michael, but he was nowhere in sight. That is, until right before lunch started. He was standing by his locker, staring at it. Just , staring. Then he flinched and quickly opened it with shaking hands. 

 

Jeremy all but sprinted over to him. “Hey, Michael!” 

 

“Oh, hey man.” He didn’t look at him. He just continued to carefully grab his lunch out of his locker. 

 

Take it easy. Calm down. Carry on conversation as normal. “So, how’s your first day back like?”

 

He shrugged. “I’ve gotten yelled at by my spanish teacher for missing class, saying the hip was just an excuse. Can you fucking believe that? And I almost fell on the way to gov, and Mr. Torrow was just being extra senile today. I think he forgot who I was. So y’know. It's been a day.”

 

“Well, I know what can make it better. Eating lunch with us!” Jeremy tried to be as excited as Michael usually was about lunch. Maybe some of his excitement would rub off?

 

And Michael smiled! Holy shit it worked! “By us you mean, you and jake and everyone right?”

 

“Of course. Come on man, they're saving you a seat.” Jeremy led Michael to the cafeteria where he’d been eating for the past few weeks. It was a nice change of pace from eating with one person to eating with a whole group of people. It was kinda cheesy but it made Jeremy feel a part of something bigger than himself. 

 

There were eight seats at that table, and two were left open for him and Michael, as promised. Michael sat down on the end, and Jeremy sat next to him. Everyone was extravagant with their hellos and welcomes. Well, everyone except Chloe. She was busying herself with painting her nails a garish shade of pink. Jeremy was a fan of the softer shades of the color. He thought about painting his room a soft shade of rose once but his mom wouldn’t let him. Maybe now that she’s gone, it would be okay? Jeremy took a mental note to ask his father later about it. 

 

Jake clapped Michael on the shoulder from across the table. “Sup Crutch Buddy! How’s it hangin!”

 

Michael smiled again. Jeremy started a new list for every time that happened. “I got my crutches caught in my moms car this morning. At this point I’m willing to toss them out a window and deal with the pain.”

 

Jake laughed. “Yeah, that's about right.”

 

“Soooo” Brooke sang, waving a french fry in Jeremy’s direction. “I heard you guys had a fun weekend, tell me all about it!”

 

Jeremy glared at Rich, knowing he was the one who blabbed. It wasn’t like it was some big secret, he just didn’t want the whole lunch table to be talking about it. “Jesus, Brooke, since when are you a gossip?” 

 

Brooke blushed. “I dunno, I guess Jenna’s been rubbing off on me.” Okay, either Jeremy is imagining things, which he is entirely willing to believe, or Jenna Rolan just winked at her.

 

Jeremy took a bite of his sandwich before answering. “Alright, okay, well, I hung out with Michael, and helped him get caught up in his classes, for the most part.”

 

“So, you were studying?” Chloe spoke without breaking her focus from her nails. 

 

“Uh, yeah? That’s what he just said.” Michael took a sip from his juice, his point having been made.

 

Chloe scoffed. “We all know studying is code for fucking. So did you just now get together or what?”

 

Michael choked on his lumpia. He froze, his gaze glued to the table.

 

“Chloe!” Jeremy threw a tater tot at her. “We were actually doing work, okay! The craziest thing that happened between us was a blanket fort.”

 

“Woah guys, pretty wild.” Rich teased, then his smile fell. “Hey, Michael. You alright, buddy?”

 

He was- twitching? Yeah, his eye was twitching. He started mumbling, so softly that Jeremy was sure he was the only person that could hear him. “I-I’m fine. Sorry, I’ve been real spacey all day. Not enough sleep.” Then suddenly his head snapped up. His voice was louder and more sure, but it was slightly off. “So, Jake. Just a question, how come you’re dating Rich? I mean, damn, you’re like, the hottest dude in school, and you choose someone who literally burned your house down.”

 

“Michael.” Jeremy punched him in the arm. He could list on one hand the amount of times he’d been truly angry with his best friend, and this one just earned the top spot. He looked over at Rich and could tell he was on the verge of a panic attack. Jake had an arm around him, trying to calm him down. 

 

“What the hell man?” Jake rubbed small circles on Rich’s back. His breathing was slowly starting to go back to normal. 

 

Michael was unfazed. “What, honest question. It's cause he has a big dick isn't it?”

 

“Michael!” Christine shouted and Jeremy flinched. She was rarely angry with anyone, but when she was, hoo boy. All he can say is that Michael was in big trouble if Christine was yelling at him. “Can we talk for a second? Over there?” She phrased it as a question but it most definitely a command. One so powerful that Jeremy almost listened to her. 

 

She walked around the table and grabbed Michael roughly by the sleeve. He was lucky she waited for him to get his crutches situated before dragging him over to the vending machine. Jeremy was glad that someone was finally talking some sense into him, but was also kind of ashamed that he hadn’t been the one to do it. He was just a shit friend. A shit friend who hated confronation as much as he loved Michael. This was not the best mix of qualities at the moment, especially now, when Michael needed him the most. But right now, the best he could do was watch as Christine did the thing he should’ve done so long ago. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did not like writing this chapter, i am absolutely garbage when it comes to dialouge, but! i do have the rest of the story planned out, so yay!!


	8. The one where Jenna almost burned down the Chem lab

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as hard as this chapter is to read, it was harder to write
> 
> (also I'm posting this from my phone so if it looks fucked up that's why)

Michael stumbled over himself as Christine dragged him towards the vending machine. He felt awful. He didn’t want to say that? Why did he say that? Why did his head hurt so bad? “W-what the hell?”

“That’s what I’m asking you!” Christine smacked his arm, then rested a hand on his shoulder. She was funny like that. Comforting and scolding at the same time. “Oh, Michael. I know you’re not like this.”

_Deflect_.

“You don’t know me.” He shrugged her hand away. Michael wanted to scream, he had no idea what actions were even his anymore. It was hard keeping the shouting match in his head and maintaining a conversation at the same time.

Christine waved her arms around a lot when she talked, it reminded him of Jeremy. “Yes I do! I mean, yeah, we haven't talked much, but I feel like I still know who you are. We’ve been in all the same classes since 7th grade, and you helped out with the audio for the freshman play, and Jeremy! Oh my gosh he talks about you so much I feel like I’ve known you my whole life!”

“He ta- ow!”

_Indifference, Michael._

He rubbed the back of his neck, as if his fingers alone could get rid of the pain. “Pssh, whatever. Why do you even care about Jeremy. He dumped you, remember?”

She pushed against his shoulders, not enough to make him fall over, just enough to get her point across. “He dumped me because-! Ugh, no. Michael, listen to me. I know that Jeremy has made some- questionable choices, and I know he hurt you. But what happened is no excuse to start acting like a complete and total jerk to your friends.”

“They’re not-”

“Ah ah ah,” she put a finger to his lips, silencing him. “Yes Michael, we are your friends. We are your friends who care about you. Now whatever,” she gestured to the whole of him, “this is, needs to stop. Please just go back to being your adorable dorky self that we all know and love. Cause right now, all you're managing to do is hurt everyone. Look at Rich, he’s freaking out right now. You know he feels like shit about what happened. He blames himself for all of this. And Jeremy? He hasn’t been the same since then. He hasn’t slept, his grades are going down, and I swear he’s on the verge of a nervous breakdown 24/7. He almost started crying in study hall the other day cause a Bob Marley song came on the radio. Please Michael, just- just go back to normal? If not for any of us, for Jeremy.”

Michael looked over to his squip. It was leaning against the vending machine, watching him flounder. He silently begged it for help, for something to say next. He hated himself for needing it to speak for him.

_Sure, I’ll do it, but not for Jeremy._

“Uh, sure. I’ll do it. B-but not- but not because of J-Jeremy or anything.” It was so hard to say. So, so hard. Everything he did was for Jeremy, as far back as he can remember. This change was too new for him. Too sudden. All of this was. He was screaming inside his head, but it did nothing but add to the excruciating noise.

Christine gave him a look, Michael couldn’t figure out exactly what it meant. “Well, okay. Good. Did you wanna come back to the table now?”

Michael screwed his eyes shut and shook his head. He couldn’t go back now, he didn’t feel like picking up all the pieces of the mess he made. The light hurt, the noise hurt, looking at everyone’s disappointed faces hurt. “No, I need a minute, to be alone. Please.”

Christine grabbed his hand and squeezed. Odd, but comforting. Everything about her was like that. She then turned on her kitty-cat heels and left back towards the table. Once she was gone Michael slumped against the vending machine. His hands flew to his eyes, trying to block out the light, everything hurt. He was so confused and angry and everything at once.

Not-Jeremy leaned next to him. _Well, now that was certainly unexpected_.

“You fucking think?” Michael spat. He was shouting to himself but right now he didn’t care. No one else did either apparently. They were all too focused on their conversation about how the pizza is like cardboard. Everyone knows that, Stacey, there’s no need to point it out every single pizza day.

_There’s no need to get angry, Michael._

“I thought you had like, a genius knowledge of social shit. All of this change was supposed to make them like me and all it did was make me seem like an asshole. I would have been better off if you let me be me and not but on some bullshit facade!”

It moved to face him in an instant. It stopped looking like Jeremy, and more like a product of a nightmare. It’s eyes were a sickeningly bright shade of cyan. Circuits and wires glowed underneath it’s skin. Michael tried to look at Jeremy, to comfort himself that the real thing was still okay and fleshy and alive, but he couldn’t turn his eyes away. Every word it said sent currents through his spine. _You don't understand Michael. They don't like who you are, they like the picture that Jeremy painted of you. If they ever found out who you really are, they’d never stay. You think they'll all put up with your pitiful breakdowns? You think they’ll still like you when you aren't able to get out of bed for a week? You think they’ll just be okay with the fact that when you get a little upset you treat your arm like scratching post?_

Michael stuffed a shaking hand in his pocket. His arm stung. “Why are you doing this?”

_To keep your head on straight. To remind you why we have to put on this “bullshit facade”. I'm only being logical here, you know. You simply do not understand how these kinds of things work. It takes skills that you do not have. You keep letting your disgusting emotions get in the way. Lucky for you, I’ve had a plan in the works._

The bell rang but Michael stayed still. He looked over at the lunch table and saw everyone leaving. Every single one of them. He thought he saw jeremy glance back at him, but it might have just been wishful thinking. He did a lot of that. “What plan?”

_Being cool involves three things: confidence, relevance, and having someone on your arm to show off. As of now you have none of these things, but you can, if you get with Jake._

Michael wasn’t sure if he heard it right. “Wait, what? I don’t like Jake, like, at all. Sure, he’s got a nice ass, but I would never date him. And he’s got Rich. Why would he dump someone he obviously likes for me?”

_Why do you think I made you say those things to him? I was trying to plant thought of doubt in Jake’s mind, to make him see how much of a basketcase Rich is and to see potential in you._

“Oh and that worked perfectly. All that did was make me seem like an asshole.” Michael tried to push the squip out of anger, but it glitched away at his touch.

It glowed even brighter. _Now that one's on you. It was supposed to come out as simple playful banter, but because you insisted on fighting me the entire time, it came out sounding like you were being an insensitive jerk. However, I can’t say that your chances with him are completely out the window, so to speak._

“What do you mean? Is he just gonna forget all the awful things I said?”

_That didn’t stop you. Personally, I would never keep falling for a guy who ignored me for a month and me left in a bathroom to burn._

The ringing in Michael’s ears melded with the ringing of the late bell. The cafeteria was empty. He liked it that way. It was quiet. No, no, the room was quiet, but Michael’s head was loud. Too loud, so loud. The squip made him leave his headphones at home. His jean jacket didn’t have hood. It was too loud too loud too loud. A chorus of his own words and the squip’s spinning round and round in his head. Loser loser loser loser loser get over him get over him get over him he doesn't love you he doesn't love you he doesn't love you

Michael was on the floor, his crutches next to him. His hip screamed in pain. Great, add that to the symphony of noise in his head.

_Get up, Michael. You can have a pity party later. You need you go to chemistry. Say you fell on the way to class, that should earn you a sympathy late pass. Now, Michael_.

WIth much, much struggle, he grabbed his crutches, and used the vending machine to heave himself back up. His head was still spinning. His steps were shaky. Take it slow, take it slow. Crutch. Swing. Step. Crutch. Swing. Step.

Class was in full swing when he walked through the door. The teacher was sitting at her desk, not paying attention to the students who may or may not have been trying to toast marshmallows on the bunsen burners. There were two spots open: one in the back by the buted sink that didn’t turn off, and one next to chatterbox of the century Jenna Rolan. Michael wasn’t in the mood to talk, but he found his legs leading him towards her anyway.

_Make conversation. Apologize for being a jerk to Rich, then ask about her and Brooke._

Michael limped his way to Jenna, then leaned both himself and the crutches against the table.

“Michael! Hey, wanna marshmallow?” She said, mouth full of sugar.

He nodded, and she shoved one in his mouth. After he was done choking he muttered out a thanks. “So, uh, I just wanted to apologize for being a dick to Rich earlier.”

She waved her arm dismissively, almost knocking over the bunsen burner and setting their notes on fire. Michael caught it just in time. “Oh, it’s okay. I mean, it wasn’t but it is now. Christine told us that you were just going through some stuff and you were trying to be funny, in a really hurtful and mean way, but it’s all good. Rich is fine now. Him and Jake are taking the rest of the day off and going to the mall. Me and Brooke almost went with but we both had quizzes today so-” Jenna blushed when she said the other girl’s name.

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask, are you and her like a thing now, or-”

Jenna giggled. “Yeah, we got together after Chloe was being a bitch to her at the party. She stayed over at my place after and we just talked and talked for hours, mainly about Chloe, but also like, just about ourselves y’know? And I’m no stranger to talking forever, obvs, but with her it was different cause when I was talking with her it wasn't just a bunch of superficial “he said she said”. I got to hear her speak. I feel like she never really had a voice before. But don't get me wrong we still gossip about everyone all the time, like did you know that Jeremy-” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oops.”

“Wait, whats going on with Jeremy? You can tell me, I’m his best friend. I’ve probably heard it already.”

She shook her head. “Nope, I can’t.”

Michael racked his brain, trying to figure out what he didn’t know about Jeremy, but it was hard. He knew everything about him. He knew his favorites, his fears, every little tic and fidget he did. He even knew about his fursona for God’s sake. “Jenna come on. I haven't seen you shut your mouth since first grade. Just tell me”

She shook her head. “I can’t, Michael. He made me promise not to tell you. I may be a chatterbox but I am not loose-lipped.”

What could Jeremy possibly be hiding from him? He looked to his squip for answers, as if looking like Jeremy would give him some insight into the real thing, but it just shrugged. Some supercomputer it was. “Ugh, whatever. What’s the atomic number for phosphorus again?”

Together they worked through the rest of his chemistry report, which proved to be quite difficult when he was gone for half of the lab. Every once in awhile Jenna would feed him a toasted marshmallow. This resulted in more than a few drops of melted sugar dropping onto his notebook. He figured he should’ve been mad, maybe before he would’ve been, but now it was just funny. He found himself laughing, it put a pleasant pause to the voices in his head. The laughing soon evolved into a food fight with the uncooked marshmallows. Jenna launched one at his heart and he clutched it dramatically.

“I’ve been shot!” He clung to the table as if clinging to his last shreds of life.

“Michael, no!” she laughed, despite the obvious severity of the situation.

“Tell… my husband… I love him… blegh,” he slumped against the table and let out a shuddering breath.

Jenna began clapping. “Bravo, bravo! Moving performance, my good sir. Christine would be envious of your brilliant acting, Michael Mell.”

He bowed, “Why thank you.”

The bell rang and Michael gathered up his things. Before he left Jenna grabbed onto his arm. “Want me to walk you to class?”

“Um, sure.” This was a first. No one besides Jeremy had ever offered to walk him to class. It was… nice.

_See, Michael? This is what being cool is. Isn’t this what you want? To be loved? To be wanted?_

Jenna walked in front of him as he made his way to psych. She made a path for him to walk, which wasn’t hard. People seemed to naturally part for her like the red sea. People would do the same for him too, but not because he demanded it, because they were scared of the “Antisocial Headphones Kid.” He could see why. He probably looked angry all the time, like if one person bumped him the wrong way he would snap. That never happened, ever, but people made their assumptions anyway.

Jenna gave him a sweet goodbye and left him to walk into class. He wasn’t late this time, which was a plus. Even though his psych teacher was pretty chill, she did not joke around when it came to attendance. He saw Christine sitting at the front of the class, as usual. She waved and patted the seat next to her. This time Michael sat down because he wanted to. He liked Christine, he really did. She was easily one of the sweetest people he’d ever met. If Michael was into chicks, he’d probably have a crush on her.

She leaned onto Michael’s desk. “Hey, I’m sorry for being so harsh earlier, but I felt like you kinda needed it. Are you feeling okay?”

He took a moment to debate the question. Okay was subjective. He was miles away from being okay, but he supposed maybe he was feeling better. Better than he felt at lunch at least. “I’m better. Jenna and I had a marshmallow fight during chemistry. She said I was a better actor than you.”

She gasped dramatically. Was there anything she didn’t do dramatically? “I am offended. I put years into my craft, and some new floozie comes along and strips me of my title. I won’t stand for it!”

Michael smiled. “Well, obviously. You’re sitting down.”

She laughed, and was shushed by the teacher who began class. She was going off about different parts of the brain, but Michael was already tired of it. He’d had enough of feelings be explained away by chemicals. He wished he was a kid again, when all the brain did was think and all the heart did was feel and he could sort his feelings into different groups nice and neat. Feelings were such a messy thing. He didn’t know how they worked and he didn’t want to. All he wanted to do was be happy when he was happy and love when he wanted to love and cry when he wanted to cry. He only took this class for the social studies elective credit.

Christine leaned over and kept talking in a hushed tone. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. I was worried. Have you seen jeremy at all?”

Michael waited until the teacher was writing on the board. “Not yet. I have him in my next two classes.”

“You should really talk to him. Reassure him that you’re still his friend. He’s so worried that you hate him, but I know you never could. Just talk to him about what's going on in that fluffy head of yours.” She ruffled his hair and he almost felt like child. If it was anyone else it would probably be weird, but she made everything less awkward for some reason. He liked it. “He’d listen and understand, if that's what you're worried about. He- he loves you a lot. More than you’d think.”

“M-more than I think?” He flinched at the familiar sting on the back of his neck.

_Calm down, Michael._

“Well, just think about it this way. He may be stupid sometimes, but he wouldn’t just break up with someone he’d liked for years with no reason behind it. What did he say to you? About why we broke up?”

“Different interests.” His skin was frying but he didn’t care. If what what he thought was happening was happening, he needed to know. And no amount of voltage could stop his heart from racing. Or maybe that’s what was causing it. It didn’t matter.

She snickered. “Oh, yeah, we had different interests for sure. You should talk to him. Ask him about seventh grade, Michael. Tell him I told you.”

Holy shit. Ow! But- ow! Come on! Michael was shaking his neck was burning he couldn’t focus he could only think of Jeremy and the squip was standing over him with all it's not-Jeremyness and it made him sick he was gonna be sick. He can't focus on the teacher cause his mind is alternating between screaming and screaming. His own and the squip’s. Without asking for permission he left the class and fled straight to the bathroom. No one used this one, none of the toilets worked.

Christine yelled something about his backpack but he couldn’t hear anything but how loud it was. Why was it so loud? And on top of all the screaming of all the voices the bell rang so high and loud. He couldn’t go to calculus he couldn’t see Jeremy. Not now, not now. He needed to breath, just to breathe, everything was happening so much. He slammed the stall and sat on the seat of the toilet. Breathe in and out and in and out and in and out and no that's too fast, slow it down. In. And out. In. And out. The late bell rang, motivating him to get a hold of himself. He replayed what just happened in his mind to make sure he understood it correctly. What Jenna said. Jeremy’s secret that he couldn’t know. What Christine said. Why they broke up. “What does this mean? W-what was she talking about? I mean, you heard what they said. That means- that means he might actually love me back, right? But oh God what if I'm reading into it wrong? What do you think?” He must've been desperate if he actually cared about it's opinion.

_I have to admit, this new data is quite, promising in your favor. However, any action taken that jumps on this conclusion could potentially destroy your already precarious relationship. There is only one sure-fire way that Jeremy would like you back._

“How's that?”

_By linking your desires with his own_.

Michael blinked, trying to understand what it meant. “Linking our desires? That- wait, no, that's fucked up. That's like forcing him to love me.”

It smiled at him. It made Michael uneasy. _But a relationship would make you happy, no? Being in a relationship of any kind would improve your popularity by twenty percent. And I know how much you liked talking with Jenna and Christine. With popularity you could have all that and more._

He had to admit, it was nice talking to other people besides Jeremy. It was like he had a whole bunch of new people to bond with and hang out with. They each had something he wanted in a friendship. Jenna could talk and talk and talk and not expect him to answer. Christine made him feel warm and loved. Jake, if he didn’t hate him forever, could talk about music with him. And Chloe, as abrasive as she seemed, would probably give great makeup tips. He loved her eyeliner. He wanted their friendship. But was popularity they only way to that?

_Have no doubt, Michael. Trust me. I know what’s best for you._

He took a deep breath. “Okay, well, how do I link our desires or whatever.”

_Mountain Dew_

Michael’s heart stopped. “What?”

It kneeled in front of him so they were eye level. _In order for me to link your desires I would have to link with his squip. And for that to happen, I need you to reactivate it._

His heart began working again. Not functionally cause it was about to pound out of his chest, but at least it was pumping. “No, no no no I can't do that.”

_Do you want Jeremy or not?_

He shook his head so hard he thought it was going to fall off. He wouldn’t have minded if it did. “Not like this. Never like this.”

_You can't lie to me, Michael. You would do anything for him. It’s tempting, I know it is._

In a split second Michael made up his mind. He kept his decision quietly to himself, folded away deep in his subconscious, a stroke of genius that would change Michael's world forever if it worked or failed miserably. It was rare he had those moments, quick rash decisions made with no thought, no thought at all that usually resulted in a lot of bodily harm or a brilliant thing, like when he licked that swing set in first grade and caught the flu a day later, or when he signed up marching band despite not knowing how to play and instrument and that actually went well he is still the school’s best sousaphone if he does say so himself, or when he-

_My goodness, Michael. How the hell do you keep track of all the thoughts in your head? I have a quantum processor and even I’m struggling to make sense of the massive “shitstorm” that goes through your head._

Good, good, good. This was perfect. If Michael can’t follow his own thought process then the squip couldn’t either. Did he even have a thought? Maybe. Did have a plan? Who knew? That didn’t matter. Instinct. He would have to rely on instinct. No thought. No thought.

What now? He called his mom. “Hey, mom. My hip kinda hurts. I fell today. Can you pick me up?” His mom was there in less than five minutes with a bottle of tylenol and an ice pack. He let her dote over him and tuck him into his bed. He wasn’t in pain, he just wanted to be home. He just wanted to watch a movie by himself. It was nice. Warm. The blanket was soft. The movie was good. Everything felt good.

It ruins his good feeling by sitting on his bed. _Well, Michael? You never answered me. Are we doing this or not?_

No thought. “Yep. Let’s go now. It's cold out. I'll bring a jacket. Wow it's already 10? I don't even feel that tired.”

_Would you stop talking for five minutes?_

“No.” Action was all that mattered now. Action action action. Talk talk talk. He felt like a kid again.

Before he knew it Michael is going to Jeremy's house with a bottle of Mountain Dew. Where did he buy the dew? 7-11 of course. He also bought the biggest slushie he could and filled it with every flavor and downed it in less than five minutes. He was having the biggest sugar rush of his life. Bigger than when he ate all of his halloween candy as they were trick or treating. He was shaking he was bouncing he couldn't sit still and he was walking to Jeremy's that was what he was doing right now in the moment walking to Jeremy’s with the bottle in his hand, no too obvious, put it in the pocket in the pocket in the pocket, lalalala, singing singing so hyped up get out of his mind get out of his mind. He's on a mission. One goal. Just one goal. He needs to reactivate Jeremy’s squip in order for them to both be happy and together and everything will be great. They'll be so happy once they're linked and activated and then then then then then then then then then then then-

“I want to tell him how I feel before we sync.” He really does he really does he really does.

_Is it really with causing him that heartache and confusion if he doesn't feel the same way?_

“Yes.” Yes it is it is it is it is.

He walked up the front porch, each step was heavy. He knocked on the door, one, two, three. Their secret knock, not that they ever needed one.

The seconds dragged on as Michael waited for the door to open. He looked over at his Squip. Something was different about it. It seemed cooler looking, but less like Jeremy which was great cause the only Jeremy he wanted was behind this door, behind this door, behind this door.

_Looks like he's not answering. Big surprise._

But the Squip can choke on its own words cause the door sprung open, revealing Jeremy, Michael's Jeremy, clad in his boxers and a tshirt, rubbing at his eyes. He woke up fully when he saw who was at the door.

"Michael! What are you doing here? It’s almost midnight.” He rubbed at his arms. It was really cold.

"Can I come in? I want to talk." Don't think, just do. Don't think, just do.

"Uh, y-yeah, let's go to my room. Dad’s on the couch."

Michael focused on his feet. Left right left right left right. One step at a time, walking towards the bedroom. Limping up the stairs. Don't think.

Jeremy sat on his bed. "What did you wanna talk about?"

Don't think just speak don't think just speak

"I want to give you something." He held out the bottle.

The fear in Jeremy's eyes made Michael want to stop but he couldn't. Can't stop can't stop can't stop. "W-what are you doing, Michael?"

Michael put the bottle back in his pocket and grabbed Jeremy's hands and forced him to hold his own. As scared as Jeremy seemed he still held tight. "I want to give you something, but before I do, I want to confess something,"

_Just spit it out, Michael. The longer you take the more pain it causes both of you. We need to get his done, if he says no there’s only a short amount of time we have before he flees. Say it already. Say it now._

"I want to say that Jeremy, I am totally, completely, wholly," _in love with you_

“Squipped."

_NO_

Seizures ran through Michael's body, he couldn't control his spasms. He couldn't control anything. He crumbled to the ground, convulsing and shaking and screaming. Was he screaming he didn't know. He couldn't do anything but sob as he felt himself slip into the back of his own mind. He could see ha could hear but he wasn't there anymore, no, no. He was watching the world like a movie. He was stuck in his head. But he could hear. And what he heard was the sound of Jeremy screaming panicking crying.

"Michael!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank you all so much for readin this, this is the first fic that I'm actually gonna finish and not abandon and it's all because of you guys <3


	9. People dont think it be like it be, but it do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i use old memes as a coping mechanism 
> 
> im sorry this chapter didnt come out soner, it was such an important one that i wanted to make it perfect (even though it still probably isnt lol) i hope you enjoy

Jeremy froze, not a good thing to do when your best friend was on the floor twitching and seizing and letting out these awful strangled screams that pierced straight through to Jeremy’s heart. What did he say? Why was he on the ground? Why did Jeremy’s brain pick now of all times to stop working right? Squipped! That’s what it was, Michael had a squip. How to fix this? How did he fix this? The Mountain Dew red. He leapt off the bed and ran to his drawer, tearing it open, throwing aside socks until he found it. The glorious red bottle that would fix his friend. That would make everything okay again. He turned around to Michael but he wasn't on the floor anymore. He was standing, a warped smile on his face. In mere seconds all of Jeremy's nightmares became reality. His eyes were red. Scars on his neck glowed like overheating circuits. He held up his hand. When he spoke, it sounded so much like him. It wasn’t right.    
  
"I can't let you do that, Jeremy."   
  
And suddenly Jeremy was back at the play. Bright blue eyes stared down at him, laughing and grabbing and pushing and shoving and all he heard was its voice and he wanted it to stop just stop stop stop. He grabbed at his head and violently shook away the memory. He needed to focus. Michael needed him dammit! He stood tall, as tall as he could, and tried to sound intimidating despite the tremor in his voice.     
  
"G-get out of him. Or else."   
  
He laughed, no, it laughed. That's not Michael. Even though it stole his body. "Or else what? There's  _ nothing _ you can do now. Not without hurting my body. Not without hurting your good pal Michael. You know, the funny thing about Michael is how emotional he is. So  _ passionate. _ Now you, you were smart. You knew that a squip was your chance to rise to the top. And well, it worked out so far didn’t it? You had the girl of your dreams. You’ve finessed your way up the social ladder. None of that would have happened without your squip, Jeremy.” It pulled out the bottle. “Come on. You know how amazing it felt to know what to do and what to say all the time. It really took a load off, didn’t it? You can link your desires with Michael’s. That’s what he came over here to do.”

 

Jeremy shook his head. “N-no. That’s not true. He- he would never.”

 

“I wouldn’t be so sure. He would do  _ anything _ for you, Jeremy. Anything to ensure that he could have you be with him, forever.” He stepped closer, holding out the Mountain dew. Jeremy’s grip on his own bottle tightened. 

 

Jeremy tried to block out the squip’s siren song. That’s what is was. Nothing more than sweet sounding words to hide the fact that squips were worst thing that could possibly exist ever. Ever ever ever. He repeated it over and over again in his head as he tried to think up a plan. He was never good at thinking up things on the fly, but he had to now. For Michael. What could he do? What could he do? He looked on the floor and a light bulb went off in his head.

 

“Well, Jeremy?” The squip - that wasn’t Michael it wasn’t it wasn’t - shook the bottle in front of his face. “What do you say?”

 

Jeremy said nothing. As fast as he could he snatched up a pillow from the floor and slammed it into Not-Michael’s face. Aside from causing it to stumble backwards, the pillow accomplished nothing. It bounced off his head and hit the ground with an unsatisfying thump.    
  


It laughed. "Seriously? A pillow? I knew you weren't the brightest kid but-"   
  
Jeremy launched himself at Michael, tackling the boy to the ground. It was caught by surprise, and they both fell onto the stained carpet. Jeremy straddled Michael and managed to push away the mountain dew. It rolled somewhere under his bed. He fought against the squip trying to push him off. He could barely hold down the other’s arms. There was no way he’d be able to restrain him and make him drink the red at the same time. All he could do was struggle and watch in horror as the face below him kept shifting from Michael's own panic and terror to the squip's rage and frustration. His screams shifted from anger to pain " _ Get off me _ \--aaaagh! Hel-  _ get the hell away from _ \- p meeee!"    
  
All the pushups his squip made him do did nothing to make him stronger than Michael. The Squip pushed him off easily. Jeremy barely had time to grab the mountain dew red before he was kicked in the stomach. He doubled over in pain. Through his tears he could see the squip bent over him, panting and screeching.    
  
"I'm sorry!" Through all the noise Jeremy heard Michael’s voice scream in apology. Something about hearing his voice so broken and pained gave Jeremy a swell of confidence. He had to save his friend, just as he had done for him. From the ground he could see the green bottle under his bed. He snatched it up and twisted off the lid.

 

“Hey, Assface!” Insults were not Jeremy’s strong suit, but he held his ground. He stared the squip in its sickeningly red eyes as he poured out the dew.    
  


A new rage seemed to take hold of it. Any confidence that Jeremy had previously garnered had left him as it charged. He squeaked as it connecting with his gut, launching them onto the bed. Jeremy held the precious bottle out of reach and tried to push the heavier boy off of him. This was obviously going nowhere fast. He needed a new plan. He needed to play to what little strengths he had. And what did Jeremy know better than anyone else? Michael. For example, he knew that whenever he wanted Michael to stop stealing his controller all he had to do was-

 

He poked a finger into Michael’s side and by some miracle it worked. It dissolved into giggles. Jeremy took this opportunity to slip his way underneath and run to the other side of the room. 

 

“AHAHAH- Wait, what the hell!?” If it wasn’t angry before, boy was it now. It chased Jeremy around the room. It reminded him of those scenes in cartoons where the two characters were running around in circles while the funny music played in the background. But that didn’t seem to fit the atmosphere. No, now this called for epic chase music. The kind with guitar riffs and drum fills. 

 

Now that Jeremy thought about it, he wasn’t running around his room, he was scrambling. He clambered over bean bags and tripped over wires and crawled on the floor. It was no mystery how the squip caught up to him. It grabbed him by the back of his shirt collar and wrapped an arm around his neck. 

 

“Give it to me.” It growled in Jeremy’s ear. 

 

“N-no!” Jeremy choked out and held the bottle as far away from his as he could. He had to do something. His head felt like it was going to burst. He was getting woozy. Everything was going blurry. He had to do something. Anything. He was desperate. What did he do when he had no one else to turn to?   
  


"Dad!" Jeremy shouted at the top of his lungs.    
  
The squip’s hand flew to his mouth, but the damage had already been done. Heavy footsteps bounded up the stairs and Jeremy’s door flew open. His dad was out of breath, but he managed to mutter out a confused “What the hell is going on here?”   
  
Of course he was shocked. From his point of view it looked like they were fighting over a dumb soda bottle. Michael had his son in a headlock, and both their faces were red with effort.   
  
"Dad," Jeremy inhaled sharply, it hurt to breathe. "H-hold him down. Please."   
  
Mr. Heere pried Michael’s arms off his son and pinned them behind his back. Jeremy collapsed to the ground, hand on his throat, trying to get his breathing normal again. Michael was kicking and screaming, not of it intelligible. They way he spoke was like there was some sort of glitch. The sound didn’t sync up with his mouth right. It made Jeremy’s already upset stomach even more uneasy. He watched as his dad held his friend up off the ground, ignoring the many kicks assaulting his shins. Jeremy took his chance. If he messed this up, there was no telling what would happen. He pinched Michael's nose and forced the bottle in his mouth. It was an awful sight: Michael sputtering and coughing, shaking his head and crying. Jeremy couldn’t look away. He had to be sure that he did this right, otherwise, well, he didn’t want to think about that. The last of the soda trickled down the bottle and into Michael’s mouth. This had to work. It had to. There was no way Michael hadn’t swallowed at least a little bit. No way.    
  
Michael stopped kicking. He took a few deep breaths, then let out the most blood curdling scream Jeremy heard in his life. His dad dropped him out of fear and he landed on the ground, limp and unmoving. Jeremy fell to his knees. Everything was shaking. He didn’t know what to do. What should he do? What should he do? He put a trembling hand near his mouth, and practically fell apart with relief when he felt soft breath brush against his fingers.    
  


"Jeremy? You mind telling me what’s going on? I’m kinda freaking out right now." His dad placed a hand on his shoulder. "Jeremy, I want an explanation."    
  
He supposed he deserved one. He also supposed he needn’t tell exactly the truth, just enough so that his dad would understand. "D-do you remember how, um, crazy I was acting before?"   
  
He sighed. "It would be hard to forget"   
  
Jeremy wrung his hands together as he tried to make a coherent narrative. "W-well, it was cause I took, uh, drugs, a-and I know you're mad but don't be for right now just listen. I took ‘em to be cool but it turned out really really bad, like,  _ super _ bad. And the only way to get rid of it was mountain dew red, and I guess Michael took the same drugs so I was trying to help him get rid of it, but the drugs made him, like, not want help. Does that make sense?"    
  
Mr. Heere had a blank look on his face. If he was having trouble comprehending this story, then there was no way he’d make sense of the squip. He shook his head. "Nothing about kids these days make sense. You're not doing drugs anymore though, right?"   
  
"No! O-of course not. Never again. Never." And Jeremy meant it, well, for the most part. He’d probably still smoke with Michael, if he got out of this okay. No, can’t afford to think like that. He  _ will _ get out of this okay. They  _ will _ hang out in Michael’s basement together again. They  _ will _ go back to normal. Michael _ will _ be okay.  

 

“What do you want me to do, Jeremy?” That tiny question meant the world to him. 

 

He thought about calling an ambulance, but didn’t know how much good that would do. He remembered the day he spent in the hospital after the play. Rich tried explaining the situation to the doctors, but they didn’t take him seriously. No one did. Maybe it was the lisp, maybe it was the idea of a pill-sized quantum supercomputer. Who knew? But besides, other than a splitting headache he and the other five who were squipped had woken up practically unharmed. Doctors called it a miracle, but Jeremy knew the real damage was on the inside. His psyche was shot and, he assumed, so was everyone else’s. The hospital did nothing but determine that they were all affected by some weird gas leak, and sent them home, no questions asked. Sometimes he cursed the medical system in this town. Lazy and inefficient. It reminded him of the time he broke his foot playing kickball and the doctor told him to just walk it off. Walk it off! A broken foot! But that wasn’t important right now. Stop getting distracted. Focus. 

 

“I don’t really think there’s anything any of us can do right now, Dad. But, thank you. For being there. I- I don’t think I would have been able to help him without you.” He smiled up at his dad, but didn’t know if it came off as comforting or pitiful. 

 

His dad gave a nod. “Well, uh, it’s about time I start doing something. Did you- did you still want me here?” 

 

Jeremy shook his head. “You can go back to bed, Dad. I’ll- I’ll call you if anything happens. Thank you.” He didn’t want to push his dad more than he could go. He was just getting used to being an involved father again, and then this curveball of a situation hit him. Jeremy didn't think it would be fair to expect him to have to deal with this on top of everything else. This was his fault, he should be the one to fix it.

 

“Alright, son. I’ll be downstairs making some tea. I think we’re gonna need it” he mumbled. 

 

As Jeremy watched his dad leave, his thoughts drifted back to Michael. Maybe he should do something. His squip seemed so powerful. What if his was different? What if he never woke up? What if the squip never even left? What if he never got Michael back? What if- What if- What if-

 

He was shaking. He was crying. He was picking his nails apart down to the nub. He wished Michael would just wake up, run to his backpack and grab him a glitter band-aid. He always knew how Jeremy liked the fun ones. He always cared so much about him. And what did Jeremy give him in return? Nothing. God, he was awful. The worst. Look at where his stupid decisions landed them. Michael on the floor, questionably okay. Jeremy on the floor, most definitely not okay. His dad downstairs, probably okay. He wasn’t sure how everyone else was doing on his personally patented Okay Scale ™, but they didn’t matter right now. 

 

Jeremy held Michael’s face in his hands. He was so pale. His head was burning but his body was so cold. He held him close, trying to warm him back up, as if his scrawny body could do anything to help. It was just a comfort thing. Jeremy told himself he was comforting Michael, but in reality it was the other way around. Michael was like Jeremy’s personal real live teddy bear. So soft and warm - well, not now - and his hugs were just the absolute best thing on the planet. Jeremy would give away everything he owned just to be hugged by Michael again.    
  
He pressed his arm to his face, trying, and failing, to stop the flow of tears. He gave up and let them stream down his face. He took in a shaky breath that ended in a sob. "P-please w-wake up, man. C-come on, wake up." His voice hitched in his throat. He wasn’t exactly sure how much of what he said was legible.    
  
Jeremy jumped when Michael started coughing. His shoulders were heaving and hands went to his throat. Red liquid seeped out of his mouth and dripped down his shirt. Jeremy felt bad for backing away from him, but in his defense, he was fucking terrified.    
  
"M-michael? A-are you- are you okay?" Jeremy watched him closely, searching for any sign that the guy having a coughing fit on the floor was actually his friend. His Michael. 

 

Michael calmed down with a few deep, shuddering breaths. He opened his eyes, oh God they were so beautiful and brown not a fleck of red to be seen, they were _his_. Those brilliant eyes looked over at him, and Jeremy’s heart broke when he saw terror flash over his face, just for a moment. The fear faded to an expression of caution as Michael reached out to him - his hand trembled as much as Jeremy’s - and touched his cheek. His fingers left chills where they brushed against his skin so lightly. Jeremy lifted his hand to touch the other’s. Michael lit up. He smiled, shaky but true, and tears began to fall.   
  
Michael nodded. His voice was raspy but it was his, it was his, it was his. "Y-yeah, I think so."  
  
"Michael!" Jeremy melted and scooped him into the biggest hug he could manage. He didn’t think he had any more tears left in him, but his eyes proved him otherwise. "I knew it, I knew it, I knew from the beginning you were squipped but no one wanted to believe me."  
  
Michael grabbed at the back of Jeremy’s shirt, pulling him even closer. “You did. Of course you did.”  
  
"I knew it, you weren't yourself, you were acting so different but everyone kept convincing me it was just cause you just wanted space or you were mad at me and I just- I didn’t want to believe them. And I wanted to help but I didn’t know how and I w-was so s-scared that if I was wrong and you were just mad at me that if I did anything it would only make it worse, and I’m so so s-sorry Michael I-I should have done something sooner it got so bad, it- it took over you. I thought I lost you for good. I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault, Michael it’s all my fault.” Jeremy was falling apart. His tears soaked Michael’s shirt, but it was okay because Michael was crying too. 

 

“Stop saying sorry, you shouldn’t be sorry, I did it. I was such a dick I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m sure I was a bigger dick than you were. I abandoned you, dude.”

 

“I was a jerk to you too, I was awful. You didn’t deserve that.”

 

“Well neither did you!” Jeremy lifted his head and wiped away the snot and tears. “Look, can we just- agree that we’re both dumbasses with poor decision-making skills?”

 

Michael nodded and laughed. “Hell yeah. The worst.”

 

Ther take a few deep breaths to calm themselves down. “Michael, I know I was an asshole, and I know that I should be giving you a million apologies, but I think we can also agree that I deserve an explanation. Why the hell would you do something so stupid?

 

“Oh, says you.”

 

Jeremy smacked his arm. “Yes, says me. Tell me why, Michael. Please.”

  
Michael let his head fall against the side of the bed, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars. "I just wanted to talk to you, man. At the party, you wouldn’t listen to me. And I was so scared. I didn’t want you to end up in a mental hospital or do something you’d regret, or-” This was hard for him to talk about, it was obvious by the but Jeremy didn’t let him off. He wanted to hear everything. “I thought if I had a squip to then maybe you’d listen to me and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I did it carefully but then- then the fire and all it did was want to make me popular and it made me- It wouldn’t- It looked just like you."   
  
Jeremy was shocked, appalled that any form of himself, even if it was just some fucked up projection of him, would hurt Michael in such a way. Although, the real thing sure did cause Michael a lot of pain. So much that he resorted to a squip. For the umpteenth time that day Jeremy reflected on what a shitty person he was. "Dude, I'm so sorry.”

 

“Don’t be. It wasn’t really you. It just- felt so much like you I couldn’t really handle it.” Jeremy grabbed Michael's hand that was running up and down his arm. 

 

“I don’t care if it wasn’t really me or not. I’m still gonna apologize for being so shit that I pushed you to do that. And I understand if you aren’t all that okay with seeing me right now, I mean, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to watch The Matrix again after dealing with my squip so-” Jeremy cuts himself off with a weak laugh, trying to make the situation at least a little bit lighter. 

  
"No, you’re fine. Honestly just looking at you, in the flesh, all real and stuff, it’s just what I need right now. Do you- do you think I could just stay here? I don’t really feel like going home and trying to explain away all of this." He gestured to himself. He was kind of mess, albeit with good reason. His shirt was covered in spilled soda. Tear stains covered his face. His hair was a mess, though Jeremy supposed it always was. A big floofy mess. When he looked closer he could see bright red lines poking above Michael’s collar. Scars. Michael flinched when Jeremy reached out to them, but then leaned into his touch. The scars were hot, fresh. They started at the base of his neck and branched up towards his skull. It made Jeremy wonder just what could require this kind of punishment. His own scars made sense. The ones on his back were from slouching. The ones on his wrist were from masterbating. Jeremy couldn't possibly think of a single thing that Michael did wrong, but then again, he was biased. 

 

Michael tried standing up, but even leaning against the bed he was too shaky and in too much pain to stay up. Oh shit his hip! Jeremy completely forgot. It probably hurt so bad, they were fighting so hard and running around - what if it was fractured? He felt like shit. He was so focused in the damn Squip he forgot all about it. 

 

“D-don't move. I got you.” Jeremy linked his arms underneath Michael's and tried to lift him into the bed. 

 

“Dude I'm- ow- like twice your weight, let me help.” He lifted himself onto the bed with his arms and collapsed. He didn't have enough strength to move anymore. Jeremy slid him up so that his head was in a pillow then laid next to him. Michael looked over at Jeremy and started rubbing at his neck. Jeremy grabbed his hand and took it away. 

 

“Don't focus on those, man. I know what it feels like, kinda like, ghosts of the shocks whenever you do the thing again. I haven't slouched since. I guess it's kind of a good thing, but I don't know. Just, try not to focus on it and it goes away, a little bit.” 

 

Michael but his lip and looked away. “I don't think it's just gonna go away, Jer.”

 

“What do you mean? I-is it still there?”

 

“No, it's just, the shit I got schockled for is stuff I already hated myself for doing, so it doesn't really make a difference, squip or no squip.”

 

“But, you always loved yourself. Like, you always just were yourself, and you didn't give a shot what anybody thought.” That trait of Michael's was one of the many many resins he lived him. he was always, until recently, unapologetically himself. it was a brave way to live. A way of life Jeremy dreamed of having. He guessed he was kinda close to that now. at least closer than he ever was before. “W-what did you do?” 

 

“I'll tell you, only if you tell me something.”

 

Jeremy propped himself on his elbows. “Anything, bro.”

 

Michael lifted himself up and looked Jeremy straight in the eye. “Tell me why you broke up with Christine. She told me to ask you about it. To ask you about seventh grade. What happened?”

 

If his squip was still there, it would have been screaming  _ warning warning warning. _ “Uuuuuuh, well, you see, um” Jeremy’s face turned as red as the tomato plant he grew in third grade with his science class. “I broke up with her cause I kinda realized I was projecting all my feelings for someone else onto her.”

 

Jeremy hoped that would be the end of it, but of course, Michael pressed for more. “Who?”

 

All Jeremy could hear in his head was screaming, thankfully his own, but it's still screaming.

 

“Jeremy, come on.” Michael spoke so carefully. Was that a hint of desperation he heard? 

 

“It was- ugh - it was you, Michael. Are you happy? I figured out in seventh grade and I really wanted to say something but that was the same year that all those bullies started calling me gay for hanging out with you and I know it's a really shitty reason but I just didn't want those assholes to be right I didn't wanna give them credit so I pretended like I never liked you and that I liked Christine and I became so fucking obsessed that I convinced myself that I was in love with her but when we got together I realized I'd been living a ducking lie my entire life and I was so damn in love with you to the point where it hurt and I'm so sorry for lying to you and making you put up with shit and-”

 

Michael put a hand to his mouth to quiet him. “Jeremy. I love you too.”

 

His heart was racing his palms were shaky, he couldn’t think right. This is what he wanted for years. He had to be dreaming. This were going too well for him, he didn’t deserve this. “N-no no no. You're just saying that to be nice you don't actually feel that way you could get feel that way I'm such an ass to you how could you ever love me?”

 

He laughed at him. “You're an idiot. I love you man, I love you so much that I’d do something as dumb as take a squip just to talk you you again.”

 

Something clicked in Jeremy's drowsy, worry-weary brain “Oh. W-wait. Was- was that what the Squip was punishing you for? For loving me?”

  
Michael nodded. He looked away, but Jeremy placed a hand on the back of his comfortingly. “It figured that you were my only link to the ‘cool kids’ and if I tried pursuing you it would destroy our friendship and my chance at being cool. It tried to like, attack my feelings on the hormonal level, which I call bullshit on cause, here I am. loving you still. I have to admit though, it made thinking of you feel like a sin. I feel like any second now it's gonna pop up out of nowhere and beat the shit out of me.”

  
Jeremy shook his head. “You love me.”

 

“Heh, yeah. I have for years, thanks for noticing.”

 

“Oh my God,” he laughed. "It's so unfair. If I had just told you, if I had just said something, I wouldn't have put you through all this, oh my God." He was laughing hysterically, doubled over and crying. "I never would've needed that dumbass supercomputer! I never would've needed to hurt you or Christine or anyone if I had just done something!" His laughter turned to full on sobs. 

 

Michael wrapped an arm around him. “Woah, dude. It’s okay. It wasn’t all you. I could’ve said something too. I could’ve helped you out or something or-”

 

All the rage and hatred Jeremy felt towards himself let itself out. “Stop trying to take the blame, Michael! None of this is your fault at all! It was all me I was shitty and I put you through this and I am the worst fucking person for doing that to you.”

 

“It’s okay,” he started rubbing circles on Jeremy’s back. 

 

“Stop saying it’s okay when it’s not! Stop forgiving me, I don’t deserve it, Jesus Michael your hip is broken you were psychologically fucked for weeks and you have sc-cars and you should hate me! I hate me.”

 

“Jeremy, shut up. Right now, okay? I mean it. I took that pill cause I made a stupid decision. That was on me. 

 

“But I-”

 

“I said shut up. Now listen. We’ve been friends for twelve years, Jer. A couple months is just a blip in that time. I’d rather die before I let anything that happened ruin what we have. I mean, obviously, considering I kinda almost did. Just know that I forgive you. I forgive you twice as much cause I know you’ll never forgive yourself. Do you know how amazing it is just to be here with you again without feeling like I’m gonna die any second from electrocution? My nerves are buzzing but like, in a good way. So just, stop ranting. Breathe.” He wiped Jeremy’s eyes and touched his forehead with his own. “I love you, man. 

 

“I- I love you too. I can’t believe I’m saying this.” 

 

“Neither can I.” Michael smiled. Jeremy missed that smile.

 

They held each other close, and just stayed that way. It was so nice. They breathed together in sync. Soft and slow. He could tell Michael wasn’t sleeping from the little grin that kept creeping its way onto his face. Jeremy would do anything for that smile.The simple act of being together put Jeremy’s worried and anxious mind at ease. Months of confusion all leading up to this. It was almost worth it. Almost.

  
  
Jeremy thought once he helped Michael his nightmares would go away. He couldn't’ve been more wrong. They were still there. Awful. Intimidating. Threatening. 

  
  
His Squip appeared in front of him, it's voice was clear and loud. 

  
  
_ It's funny how you think you've won, Jeremy. We will always be here, simply on standby. Waiting, watching, planning. _

  
  
It grew larger - or did Jeremy grow smaller? - and picked him up by the collar. It grinned menacingly before turning him around 

  
  
_ Just look at what we have now _

 

And sitting there in his hellish dreamscape is Michael, tied up and crying, the rope held by Jeremy. 

  
  
Jeremy’s whole body shook with fear. "N-no, you- you can't have him, I gave him the mountain dew red."

  
  
_ True, his Squip is now deactivated, but the hardware is still there. All he needs is a reboot and just like that,  _ it snapped,  _ reactivated. _

  
"No, no no no no, you're lying, you’re evil, evil things lie."

  
  
_ I am not programmed to lie Jeremy _ . It let his collar slip from its grip and Jeremy fell.


	10. dead memes and dad jokes are the bane of jeremy's existance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long, it's been a rough couple weeks, but thank you all so much for helping me through my first completed fic (that isn't a dumb one-shot) i love you all so much thank you for reading

Michael couldn't sleep that night. How could he? His mind was racing with all the things that just happened. It was kind of hard to piece together, considering he was only half-conscious for most of it. The last thing he remembered clearly before being pulled under was how scared Jeremy had looked. No, not scared. Scared is when you watch final destination the day before going to an amusement park. Jeremy looked utterly terrified. His face will forever be etched into Michael’s memory, a horrible reminder of what he’d done. The rest of the night was a sort of blur. He tried to piece it together the best he could, but it was all felt so impossible. It was hard to believe any of it had actually happened.

  
First, he’d managed to trick the squip that had been literally living his mind for the past month. He still wasn’t exactly sure how he managed to do that. It made Michael feel pretty powerful. He managed to trick an insanely powerful supercomputer all by himself. Although, Michael figured all his efforts wouldn't have meant shit if Jeremy and his dad hadn’t been there to save his stupid ass when he realized he didn't have a part two of his plan. 

  
Second (yet arguably the most unbelievable), Jeremy's dad had on pants. After months of wallowing in his whitey-tighties of misery, the guy had finally bucked up and put some pants on. Was it weird for a teenager to be proud of a forty-year old man? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Jeremy’s dad was finally starting to be there for him. Michael hated seeing Jeremy so bitter about everything, so cynical. It wasn’t like him. And knew that his dad’s less-than-stellar reaction to his mom leaving had most everything to do with it. Now that his dad was starting to act like a dad maybe Jeremy would relax a little. He was so tense.     
  
And third, Jeremy loved him. Like, actually for real loved him. It was crazy, like something straight out of a dream, or a shitty romcom. Suck it haters, pining for seven years can get you somewhere. Michael thought back to all the times they’ve “no homoed” their way out of risque situations. He thought back to all the times when they got just a little bit closer than best friends would. Gone just a little bit further than where “just friends” would’ve stopped. It brought butterflies to his stomach just thinking about it. He wondered if he approached Jeremy about this sooner if he would have denied it. Knowing him, probably. Maybe all this crazy squip nonsense was necessary for Jeremy to stop living his world of denial. Maybe it was necessary for Michael, too, to realize just how far he would go for him. Maybe too far. Maybe.      
  
He stared at Jeremy while he slept. He was scared at first, out of habit, but then relished in the ability to be able to look at him without having to torture himself. He could drink in this beautiful image as long as he wanted, consequence free. No guilt, no shame, no shocks. He could stare at all the scars on his face from his acne, he could stare at the way his wavy hair fell so nicely over his brow, he could stare at the way his eyelashes brushed against his cheeks so gently, he could stare at his lips, God those beautiful lips that yeah could use some Chapstick but probably felt so amazing on his and- Michael flushed and stopped staring. 

 

Michael heard noises coming from Jeremy, not cute little noises like he was used to, short panicky noises. His face was scrunched up in fear. A nightmare, he was having a nightmare. His breathing quickened,  the noises he made became more distressed. Whispers of  _ no, no, no _ slipped from under his breath. Michael put a hand on his arm, usually that would be enough to wake him and Michael would just tell some stupid funny story to calm him down, but not now. It only seemed to make things worse. Jeremy’s eyes sprang open but he wasn’t awake, not quite. He screamed silently. He didn’t move, aside from his violent trembling.    
  
Michael went into full Best Friend (Boyfriend?) Panic Mode ™.   He started shaking Jeremy’s arm, smacking his face, doing anything to get him out of this weird fucked up trance thing. "Jeremy. Jeremy wake up come on, it was just a dream, it’s all good." Michael shook him until Jeremy let out a horrible screeching noise that slowly dissolved into shuddering sobs. He curled up into himself, fists covering his face.

 

Michael placed a careful hand on his arm. “Jer? What's wrong? Do you wanna talk about it?”

 

Jeremy shook his head and took in deep breaths. He tried to speak more than a couple times but was choked by his own tears. Michael stayed silent and let him gather himself. He knew that pressing him any further would only cause him to freak out more. Jeremy took one final breath and was able to speak. “Can you just- can you just hold me?”

 

Twelve-year-old Michael, if you’re listening, all your dreams just came true. “Yeah, sure man. C'mere.” Michael opened up his arms and Jeremy quickly nuzzled himself into Michael like he would die if he didn’t get there soon enough. They were so close, they fit together so perfectly like they were the only two pieces of a puzzle. Their legs wrapped together so nicely and Michael wanted to laugh cause oh my God Jeremy shaved his fucking legs they’re so smooth. He was calming down as Michael rubbed his back in little circles, just the way he liked. Michael smiled as he realized they were already this close. There was no awkward “getting to know each other” phase, Michael knew Jeremy inside and out. He knew his loves, his hates, his story, everything. It was nice. There was almost nothing they could do to get closer than they already were, not metaphorically at least. Once Jeremy fell back asleep, Michael let himself follow suit, lulled by thoughts of them together, holding hands and sneaking kisses and showing each other off to the world. After months of his worst nightmare he was being gifted with the sweetest dream, one that he didn’t have to worry about waking up from. 

 

~

 

They woke to the smell of pancakes. Well, Michael woke up, Jeremy was still snuggled into the other’s chest, breathing softly. It puzzled Michael how he could get butterflies in his stomach just looking at him. Looking at the same face he’d been looking at for twelve years. Maybe it’s cause now he doesn’t have to hold anything back. It was so liberating. A huge weight was lifted off his shoulders, a weight he didn’t realize was so heavy until it was gone. 

 

There was a slight knock at the door. Jeremy's dad opened it and saw Michael awake with Jeremy held tightly to him. This wasn't the first time Mr. Heere walked in on something like this - most of their sleepovers eventually ended like this - but Michael was still terrified that he would be able to figure that this was just a little bit different. That now his son was in love with the boy in his bed. What if he didn’t approve of this? What if he kicked him out and got mad at Jeremy and- His fears dissipated as Jeremy’s dad gave a warm smile and whispered, “I’m glad you two made up. There’s pancakes downstairs when you’re ready.”

 

He shut the door just a bit too loudly and Jeremy stirred. His eyes fluttered open and stared groggily at Michael. His voice was scratchy and slurred, the way it gets after you’ve had a real satisfying sleep. “Hey, w’ssup?”

 

His smile made Michael feel like melting into the Nintendo-themed sheets. “Pancakes. Pancakes are up. Want some?”

 

“Yeah, in a minute. ‘M comfy.” He nuzzled into Michael’s chest.

 

Michael didn’t want to leave either, but his stomach overpowered his heart. “You’re making me choose between you and pancakes and as much as I love you, pancakes are winning.”

 

Jeremy’s face went bright red and Michael feared he pushed it too far with the love thing. They said it last night, but maybe that was just the adrenaline speaking. “Sorry, was that too much?”

 

Jeremy fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “No, of course not, I'm just- I’m still getting used to that.”

 

Michael smiled and ran a hand through the other’s hair. “I'll just have to say it a bunch until you do. I love you I love you I love you-”

 

He laughed and swatted him away. “Okay, nerd, I get it. I love you too. Let’s go get pancakes.” Jeremy sat up and stretched, and Michael didn’t have to look away when his shirt rode up a bit, showing off his hips and tight stomach. He mentally rose a triumphant middle finger to wherever the hell the squip was now. 

 

Michael shimmied himself up and placed his legs carefully over the edge of the bed. His hip hurt like a bitch, and he didn’t want to push it further than it could go. Whatever happened last night really messed it up. He’d have to raid Jeremy’s medicine cabinet when he wasn’t looking to nab some Advil. He made that a mental note as he took off his soda stained shirt. It was sticky and made him feel gross. “Hey, Jer-” He turned and saw Jeremy holding out his trademark sweater, the one his squip made him abandon. 

 

Jeremy looked embarrassed as he held it out to Michael, “I thought you might want this back now. Sorry I took it.” 

 

Michael vaguely remembered him wearing his hoodie yesterday. He was so focused on not focusing on Jeremy that he didn’t realize how adorable he looked in it. “You can wear it, it looks good on you. Is it still cool if I borrow one of your shirts?”

 

Jeremy blushed and nodded. He tossed Michael a random shirt from the clean pile on his floor then quickly slid into the hoodie. It was way too big on him and hung off his shoulder, but something about seeing Jeremy in it made Michael feel like this whole thing was just a little more real. It was a symbol of affection and unity, like how the cheerleaders wore their boyfriends’ letterman jackets. Except Jeremy wasn’t flexible at all and Michael didn’t own a letterman jacket. He got an academic letter last year, but it just sat at the top of his closet. He wasn’t spending a hundred dollars just to brag about straight A’s.

 

Michael threw on the shirt Jeremy gave him, it had the Triforce on it. It was one of Michael’s personal favorites, mainly because it was one of the only shirts Jeremy owned that fit him. When Jeremy’s mom was still around she always got him way too big shirts for his birthday. It pissed Michael off if he was being completely honest. How do you think your beanpole son is a Large? But that didn’t matter now. What mattered now was finding his crutches so he could get to the syrupy goodness waiting downstairs. Jeremy found them hiding behind his closet door and handed them to Michael. He bit hard into his lip, trying to distract himself from the pain of standing up. Yeah, he’d definitely need some painkillers later. Too bad his own were at home.  

 

“You good man?” Jeremy held his arm. 

 

“Yeah,” Michael nodded, “totally. Let’s go get some bekfast.”

 

Jeremy laughed and let go of his arm, opting for hitting it instead. “Ew, that meme died like two years ago.” 

 

“You died two years ago. C’mon, I’m hungry. We can debate the meme economy after we’re fed.” Jeremy once again grabbed his arm and helped him down the stairs, ignoring Michael’s protests. When they reached the kitchen they were greeted by a large spread of pancakes, butter, syrup, orange juice and coffee. Mr. Heere was at the stove, sliding one last batch of flapjacks from the griddle to a plate. “Mornin’ Kiddos. Everyone okay?”

 

Michael took a seat, leaned his crutched against the table and poured two glasses of juice. “Yeah, we’re okay.” He gave Mr. Heere a convincing smile, it wasn’t hard. For the first time in a long time, longer than he’d like to admit, he was truly at peace.  

 

Jeremy took his glass and nodded in agreement. He smiled, but something was off. There was something strained, Michael could see it in his eyes, he could see it in the way he chewed on his lip, and picked at his pancake - but he couldn’t pinpoint its cause. Jeremy took a large gulp of juice and set the glass down with a shaking hand. “Hey dad? Can I tell you something?”

 

Mr. Heere sat down with the boys and fixed himself a plate. “Of course, son. I’m all ears.”

 

Jeremy grabbed Michael’s hand under the table and it suddenly struck him what was happening. He squeezed his hand in support and tried to give him a loving look, but Jeremy’s eyes were glued to his plate. 

 

“Dad, I- uh.” He cleared his throat and squeezed Michael’s hand even tighter. “I like girls, but I- I also like g-guys. I’m bi.” He held his breath in anticipation and slowly brought his eyes up to meet his father’s. Michael can only imagine how terrified he must be. For him there was no “coming out”. His moms obviously would have supported him so he just- was. He didn’t even see himself as different until he was made fun of for holding Dustin Kropp’s hand in fifth grade. 

 

Michael stared at Jeremy’s dad, trying to predict how he was going to react, and whether or not he was going to have to take Jeremy to his place for the day. But Mr. Heere was unreadable. He set his fork down and looked up at his son. 

 

“Hi Bi, I’m Dad.”

 

“Oh my God.” Jeremy groaned and laid his head on the table, narrowly avoiding getting his hair sticky with syrup. Michael on the other hand, was laughing his ass off. He reached across the table to high-five Mr. Heere. Of course he wouldn’t be upset. Of course he would make a freaking dad joke. This was the man who spawned Jeremy for fuck’s sake. 

 

From the table Jeremy mumbled, “This is why I never tell you things.” The massive relief was obvious in his voice. He rose up with a big smile on his bright red face. “Thanks Dad.”

 

Mr. Heere nodded and went back to casually eating his breakfast. “So when did you and Michael start dating?”

 

Jeremy choked on his juice. “W-wait, what? I- uh- B- It’s-  _ What? _ ” Michael felt bad for snickering at his failed attempt at formulating a coherent thought.

 

Mr. Heere laughed a lot like Jeremy, just a lot deeper. “Come on, Jeremy. You hide crushes about as well as you hide dirty laundry. Plus, I can see you two holding hands under the table.” 

 

Michael laughed as Jeremy’s hand shot up to grab his fork. He would’ve been upset that he let go, if he didn’t feel his knee press against his under the table. 

 

The rest of breakfast went by in a haze of syrupy hands and playful banter. No one brought up last night. No one wanted to. It was just a normal day, everything was normal, everything was perfect. It was almost like they were back to the way things were, albeit with a little more pleasant changes. Like the way Jeremy scooted his chair closer so they could sit almost touching. Or the way Mr. Heere kept telling stories of all the times Jeremy fawned over Michael.

 

When breakfast was over Mr. Heere straightened his tie and sat up from the table. “Well boys, seeing as school started hours ago and neither of you are even close to being ready, I’ll let you two skip school today, on one condition. You have to clean the house. Sweeping, dusting, everything. I’m planning on having your mothers over for dinner tonight, Michael. It’s always important to meet your son’s boyfriend's parents.” 

 

Jeremy rolled his eyes, “Come on, why do we need to do a fancy dinner thing? You’ve already met before.”   
  


“This is different, Jeremy.” He ruffled his hair and opened the front door. “I’ll be home by three, see you kiddos later. No funny business while I’m gone.”

 

Jeremy turned as red as Michael’s jacket. “Dad!” But the door slammed shut before he heard. 

 

Michael just laughed at how easy everything was. How casual. He seriously regretted not confessing his feelings to Jeremy earlier. A few more years of this would’ve been amazing. “Hey Jer, can you grab my phone? I wanna play some music while we clean.” Normally he would just run up and grab it himself, but his hip was practically screaming. 

 

“Of course man.” He leapt up the stairs two at time, per typical Jeremy fashion, as Michael rushed to the bathroom to steal some Advil. He quickly washed down two with some water from the sink and made his way back to the living room, just in time to see Jeremy slip down the last few steps with a  _ thud thud thud thud.  _

 

Jeremy rubbed at his back while Michael tried to hold back his laughter. He only let it go when Jeremy started laughing at himself, more out of embarrassment than actually hilarity. He held out Michael’s phone and smiled. “I think Christine was trying to get ahold of you. A lot.”

 

When Michael grabbed his phone he was bombarded by messages from Christine. They all basically said the same thing, with increasing levels of panic and worry. He read over the most important ones. 

 

_ Monday 1:26 PM _

 

**Christine: Michael?**

 

**Christine: Are you okay?**

 

**Christine: You left your backpack here, so I’m taking it with me. If you want I can bring it to you, or just bring it tomorrow.**

 

**Christine: Please answer me, Jeremy’s super worried about you.**

 

**Christine: This is about him isn’t it?**

 

**Christine: You can talk to me, I won’t say anything, promise.**

 

**Christine: Or you can just be alone, that’s fine too, but text me so I know you’re not dead.**

 

**Christine: Jeremy won’t talk to anyone. Not even the teachers. He’s worried about you. We all are.**

**Christine: If I don’t see you tomorrow I’m gonna be mad. I’ll send Rich and Jake after you, I know you don’t want that.**

 

_ Today 7:47 AM _

 

**Christine: Okay, Mister, now I’m angry, upset, concerned, and scared.**

 

**Christine: Is Jeremy with you?**

 

**Christine: If I don’t hear from you by lunch then we’re all going over there, you hear me?**

 

Michael’s thumb hurt from scrolling to read all the panicked messages she sent. “Did she text you at all?”

 

Jeremy looked up from his own phone to peer over Michael's shoulder. “Yeah, it’s all basically the same thing, just with more musical references.”

 

Michael rolled his eyes. “Man, you two are total drama nerds.”

 

Jeremy grabbed the broom that was leaning against the wall and poked him with the handle. “Says the total band geek.”

 

Michael grabbed the handle and used it to pull Jeremy closer until their noses were almost touching. “Says the best damn sousaphone in this school, thank you very much.”

 

Jeremy giggled and placed his forehead on Michael’s. Michael flinched, bracing himself for a shock that never came. He silently cursed the squip for making him scared to touch Jeremy. Michael wanted to make it a point to be as close to him as he could get. He wanted to feel safe around him, not scared. He needed to replace all these bad feelings with good ones. He grabbed Jeremy’s hand and intertwined their fingers, trying to calm his racing heart. He could see Jeremy’s face grow redder by the second. 

 

“Miah, what’s wrong?” Michael found himself whispering, even though there was no need. 

 

Jeremy shrugged. “My hands are all sweaty. It’s gross.”

 

Michael held his hand even tighter. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’ll hold your hand no matter how sweaty it gets.”

 

Jeremy smiled his wonderfully crooked smile and whispered a thanks. It was a nice moment, calm and certain. They could almost pretend they were the only two people in the universe.

 

Almost.

 

Michael’s phone dinged again, reminding them of Christine’s worry. Jeremy pulled away to give him room to check his phone.

 

_ Today 10:41 AM  _

 

**Christine: Okay Buddy, it’s settled, we’re coming over there. And by we I mean all of us. And by there I mean Jeremy’s cause I don’t know where you live. He’ll show us where you are. See you soon ;P**

 

Michael groaned at the thought of all of them coming over and fussing over him like a baby. If it was just Christine he wouldn’t have minded as much, but everyone? “Jesus, does she have anything better to do than worry?” 

 

“She just cares a lot. She’s very-” Jeremy paused, searching for a single word to describe the mad gigantic feelings of Christine Canigula, “passionate.”  

 

Michael nodded in agreement then quickly sent her a text to calm her down. 

 

_ Today 10:42 AM _

 

**You: im okay chris, sorry for running out like that, me and jeremy had a feelings jam last night and were all good, were both skipping today, pls don't come hunting after us, were fine**

 

“There,” Michael pocketed his phone. “That should do it. Y’know I have to admit, even though having a bunch of people coming over here and freaking out over us sounds annoying as hell, it’s kind of, I dunno, refreshing to have someone care enough to want to send out a search party when I miss one day of school.”

 

Jeremy set his phone down on the coffee table. “I would do that. I basically  _ did _ do that in third grade, remember?”

 

Michael laughed, remembering the time Jeremy had hounded their teacher to let him call Michael’s house to see if he was okay when he was home with the flu. “Yeah, I know, but you're my best friend, that’s basically in your job description.”

 

Jeremy looked like he was just smacked. “Just best friend?”

 

It took way too long for Michael to realize how what he said hurt Jeremy. In Michael’s defense he didn’t see anything wrong with it. For him best friend and- well, whatever they were now- were not mutually exclusive. “No no no, not  _ just  _ best friend. I don’t- I just- Look, I’ve never really done this thing before. I don't know what I’m doing, I sure as hell don’t have any experience with this sort of thing, and well- I don’t know what we are right now.”

 

Jeremy sat on the couch and motioned for Michael to join him. “Well, what do you want to be?”

 

Michael knew exactly what he wanted, considering he’d had six years to think about it. “I want to be in a relationship you, like, boyfriends kinda thing, but I still wanna do all the cool best friend stuff we do. I want to be in love my best friend. I  _ am _ in love with my best friend. Is that what you want? I get it if it’s like weird or something-” 

 

Jeremy waved his hands up and down. “Yes! I mean, no no it’s not weird, yes to the boyfriend-best friend thing. That’s perfect, that’s what I want.” Jeremy let out a nervous chuckle and hid his face in his hands. “Agh, man, why are we so awkward? This shouldn’t be awkward, we’ve known each other for like, ever.”

 

Michael shrugged. “I guess it’s just cause we’re awkward people. We make it awkward.”

 

Jeremy fell back against the couch and stared at Michael lovingly. “I’m okay with awkward. Heh, that’s such a weird word. Awkward. Awkward. Awkward.”

 

Michael leaned onto Jeremy’s shoulder and carefully draped his legs over the arm of the couch. Laying down hurt a lot less than sitting. “Ew, it doesn't even sound like a word anymore.”

 

Jeremy scrunched up his face, “AAAwwwwwwkwaarrrrrrd.”

 

Michael joined in, “Aukworrrrd.”

 

They go back and forth, stretching the word, putting an accent to it, pronouncing it funny, until it truly is no longer a word. They’ve devolved to shouting random noises at each other until Jeremy started giggling, infectious giggling that quickly spread to Michael. They sat and laughed until their sides hurt. When they finally stopped Jeremy leaned his head onto Michael’s. “I like this. It’s the same, but like, different. Good different.”

 

“That’s the best kind of different.” Michael closed his eyes. He wanted to take this moment and frame it. Everything about it was so perfect. Jeremy -wonderful, beautiful, amazing, Jeremy- was his. The room was quiet except for their soft breathing. The only voice in his head was his own. 

 

_ Michael _

 

Michael froze and spine stiffened. His breath came out short and shallow. No, no, no. It can’t be here, everything was perfect, that thing wasn’t perfect it didn’t belong here it wasn’t here it can’t be it can’t be it can’t be-

 

“Michael, Earth-to-Michael. Are you listening to me?”

 

Michael opened his eyes and saw Jeremy’s blue ones staring down at him. Soft blue-grey eyes that were very real and very his. Michael took a deep “Y-you were saying my name?”

 

Jeremy had a mixture of concern and fear on his face. “Uh, yeah. You were spacing out. You okay?”

 

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, just, enjoying this.” Michael prided himself ability to lie. With six years of saying “no homo” over and over again it had almost become second nature. 

 

Jeremy nodded, but the worry was frozen still on his face. “Me too, I just-  can I talk to you about something?”

 

“Of course. We can talk about anything, bro.”

 

Jeremy played with the drawstring to Michael's hoodie, twisting it around in his fingers, “I know, but, it’s about the squip thing so we don’t have to if it makes you feel weird.”

 

It did make him feel weird. Just hearing the name made his stomach clench, but he knew that he needed to be there for Jeremy. “We can talk about it, especially if it makes us feel weird. Communication and all that jazz. What’s up?”

 

Jeremy tried to curl into himself, as he normally did when something was upset, but Michael grabbed his hand and held it to his mouth, giving it a slight kiss. It was a small gesture, but felt so intense. Jeremy let out the tiniest squeak and his face went red again. “W-well, even though I got rid of the squip at the play, sometimes- sometimes I-I can still hear it. It’s like it’s in the back of my mind, always telling how much I’m fucking up or whatever. I guess it’s nothing that I don't tell myself usually but when it’s coming from it it just feels so much more intense and worse. Most of the time I can ignore it but, sometimes it’s impossible and I just break down and go hide under my bed and it would be okay like, I’d be able to deal with it if I didn’t have that stupid nightmare last night. The squip was there and it kept reminding me that it’s still here- like ha ha no shit I see you all that time- but then it said that all the computer bits and pieces are still in our heads waiting to reactivate and now you have it too and-” 

 

Michael didn’t realize Jeremy was crying until he felt Jeremy take in a shuddering breath. He moved himself around until he was able to look the other in the eye. He placed a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and tried his best to make his words sound calm and certain. He was trying to comfort himself as much as he was trying to comfort Jeremy. “Hey, don’t start freaking out about the all voices in your head. Don’t forget that your voice is in there to. And you can shout louder and stronger than that thing ever could. And if you’re too tired to shout then I’ll be here to shout for you. I’m just a text away, and I know that if  _ I _ ever start hearing things, I’ll have you.” He took a breath, grounding himself in this moment. Jeremy was in front of him, not in his head. He was real and kind and would never ever say anything to hurt him. At least not the way the squip did. 

 

“Look, Jeremy, if anything really bad does happen, and the squip somehow manages to take control again, we know exactly how to stop it. I can ask my hook-up at Spencer’s if he has any Mountain dew red, plus I can say with pretty good confidence that we’ll have six friends there to back us up. It's all good, we're all good. I love you, man.”   

 

Jeremy wiped his eyes and smiled at Michael. “Thank you.”

 

“It’s-” A pounding on the door interrupted him. 

 

Jeremy jumped up, startled. “Oh, that’s probably my dad. He must’ve forgot his briefcase or something.” 

 

From his spot on the couch Michael couldn’t see the door, but he could hear the chaos that erupted when Jeremy opened it. There was an explosion of noise as six people burst into the living room, followed by a sheepish looking Jeremy. He mouthed a “sorry” as everyone made themselves at home. Christine led the crowd and swept Michael up in a hug. She spoke praises and comforts faster than Michael could process them. Then it hit Michael what made Christine such a comforting person to be around, she was the mom friend. Doting, caring, and sweet. 

 

Jeremy reclaimed his spot next to Michael on the couch. Michael tried avoiding Jake’s eye, still ashamed for what he said to him. To Michael’s surprise, Jake sat on the arm of the couch and gave him a friendly smack on the back [partnered with a charming smile. “‘Sup man. How’s your hip?”

 

He shrugged and tried to ignore how warm his face was, “It’s fine. How’s your legs?”

 

“Oh you know, broken, but it’s whatever.” Somehow Jake was able to turn crutches into something cool, as if they were an extension of himself instead of a burden. 

 

Rich sat himself down with a heavy thud between Michael and Jeremy. “Yo, are we interrupting anything?” He punctuated his question with a waggle of his eyebrows. Michael rolled his eyes but couldn’t keep a smile from rising to his face.

 

“Unless you count cleaning the house as ‘anything’ then no, Richard.” Michael smirked.

 

RIch stuck his tongue out and began telling Jeremy all about how the culinary arts teacher never showed up so he pretended to be Gordon Ramsay and got to yell at everyone. The thought of him calling someone an “idiot sandwich” with his lisp was enough to make Michael explode into laughter.

 

Brooke and Chloe set down a 7-Eleven bag full of gummies and two slushies, one red and one blue. Michael wondered how they knew what his favorite foods were. Jeremy probably told them. It kind of messed with Michael’s head to know that people talked about him in a form other than low jabs behind his back. Like, the thought that he existed in people’s head when he wasn’t there was super weird.

 

“Everyone get on the couch!” Jenna sat on Rich’s lap and pulled out her phone. “I wanna have a picture of all of us for my wallpaper.” As eight people tried cramming onto a two person couch, it occurred to Michael that he actually had never taken a selfie before. He liked it. Everyone was smiling and happy and real. When Jenna showed everyone the picture he could see she put on a filter that gave everyone dog ears. It was adorable. Hilarious. Fun! Michael’s chest swelled. He finally understood what Jeremy saw in being cool. It wasn’t the status, it was being liked, being cared about. Just enjoying yourself in general with a whole new crowd of people. Michael couldn’t even be mad at the fact that they all just showed up basically uninvited. Their concern and happiness made it all worth it.

 

The squip was right. He did want to be cool, well, if being cool meant having a bunch of people like this to lean on. Now that he had this little taste of what it was like, he wanted to experience this every day for the rest of his life. But the squip was wrong about him having to change himself for people to like him. Because here everyone was, enjoying Michael as Michael, enjoying each other as themselves. He looked over at Jeremy and saw him beaming along with everyone else. Michael was so happy he could have cried.

 

It’s funny how there’s such a fine line between crying and laughing. Michael found himself doubled over, giggling like an idiot with tears streaming down his face. Jeremy grabbed his hand and started laughing and crying with him. Soon, everyone else joined in. 

 

There was a simpler solution. There was probably a much easier way to get him to where he was now, happy with himself and everyone else, that didn’t involve nightmares, the squip, the torture- but, looking back, it actually made him appreciate his life just a little bit more. Made him appreciate Jeremy just a little bit more. Michael looked over at his boyfriend, lighting up the room with that prize winning smile. He made a pretty dumb choice on Halloween, but hey, it was worth it. For Jeremy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once everyone leaves at 2:30 jeremy and michael realized they forgot to clean the house so they start an epic cleaning montage the end

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave criticism if i wrote a character wrong or something, or kudos if you actually liked it, thanks!


End file.
